Dogma II: The Last Scion
by A Beautiful Insanity
Summary: Mankind's last hope remains in the hands of the last Scion. Aided by an unusual crusade, Leila Sloane is given one last demand by God: to ensure the destruction of Lucifer's protege Bartleby. Leila knows nothing about death and nothing about bloodshed but Loki, her adhered guardian and former renegade against Heaven, must assist her in order to become a full fledged Seraph.
1. Dogma II 00 Prologue

_**Prologue**_

* * *

Breathing slowly, I pondered the thought of resolution. Looking towards the skies and muttering obscene theories of solutions to the given problem. There would be no escape this time. For, I had discovered this notion once before. And like before, I had ignored the fact that reasoned with my series of absolution based upon a rational opinion. The lone scar forged on the inside of my arm, seared with a threatening burn. Something as simple as pain made me feel like an average being compared to what was expected beyond those beliefs. An idea was better because it remained in-permanent to the believers, themselves.

"I must say," Bartleby claps his fingers in rapture during my silence. "-I'm enthralled with your work." The church's archaic facade rested in grievance towards the predicament. Concentrating on his movement of pace, I found control in the hostility rising from my chest. Every now and again, it heaved forth, wanting to hinder its natural rhythm and responsibility of importance. Loki, surprisingly, restrained the forethought of rage from his mortal emotion and continued to stand against the impatience of his brother. "Scion or not, it is foretold that you will be the last." A grin stretches across his face while I glance back at the Prophets. Their stunned expression was one of sadness.

I walk up towards the fallen Seraph, whose immortal strength withered compared to mine. "You have been misinformed. I assure you." His smirk fades instantly as I glare through his stature. "Times have changed and so have the people you once watched so carefully." Turning my gaze back to my companions, I oblige to suffer the consequences settled by mankind. "They are not as ignorant as before and 'they' have you to thank for that."

Silence overtook the entire room. Even the echoes that reverberated off the marble finishing computed nothing, not even the sound of a rustled breeze through the temple. All was sound but never safe. A pounding erosion disturbed the peaceful setting as though disturbance were all but won. We were not alone, and I feared the thought of expulsion from this life. A crack severs the stained glass artwork near the front of the chapel to the church. Fear masked its violence in an invisible form as each one of us wanted to flee.

The Prophets, Jay and Silent Bob, cradled each others figures until they realized the closeness and backed away from the scene. Hesitant upon response, I backed into Loki as he guided me towards the entrance where refuge would most likely take place. The chiseled stone broke away from its solid structure and format behind Bartleby, who observed at a distance and chuckled upon our actions.

"People's ignorance is the reason I exist, sweetheart." Stepping down the slope of crushed brick, he struts down the pews without any repercussion of loose debris crumbling against the floor. "And mankind's belief of time is an absolute joke." I jolt away from Loki's grasp to pounce. His grip pulls on the bruised arm as I wince in frustration.

"You're pathetic!" Spitting out the sentence, I watch his face contort in an appalled look.

A palm braces the side of my cheek while I refuse to open my eyelids. Bartleby stood a few inches in front of me. I wanted blood. I wanted to avenge my mother because her death was anything but sacrifice. I knew how the others saw the pain and hurt build into a extensive motivated state of insanity. I didn't care at that moment. The one thing I was sure of was that the touch against my skin would be the very last this demon would ever get the chance to take from me.

"Pathetic," Bartleby laughs wholeheartedly. "Remember when we said the same about their kind, Loki?" I turn to look at back at him. My chin was locked between Bartleby's clutches and an unwilling determination to let him slip again. "Or, have you forgotten brother?" Again, the heat from my chest rose in line with the rest of my body containing the known flame of injustice. Tears welled up near the walls of my eyes. For a second, everything blurred unintentionally until I blinked and regained sight once more. An eyebrow lifts to his question.

Jay tapped Silent Bob's shoulder before shaking his head in disapproval of the remark. We all stared at the guardian, waiting to hear his words of wisdom. All I could think was that I had been betrayed.

"We are far from brothers, Bartleby." Loki states, eying me specifically so I understood his allegiance. Bartleby sighs in discomfort from the statement. Enthusiastic, nonetheless, he waited for the opportunity to break us apart. Since he failed that plan, he could no longer subside into the destruction caused by fear. "Because you still have nothing left to fear-"

"And you do, don't you?" He gazes down upon me and back at him. Loki's face turned to one of rage. "Irony has its own faults now, doesn't it?" A blade gleams back from the reflected light encasing the domain. "Death being one of them?"

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_**Disclaimer: **I do not claim any ownership of Kevin Smith's: Dogma. However, this fanfic sequel based upon his movie is my original work._

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_**A/N:**__ This is a more serious take on the film, but I promise it will contain the same humor as the original. If you would like to leave a review, or give feedback on the sequel, I would greatly appreciate it. As of now, I'm just working on making the story make sense and retaining all the previous information about the original character's personalities mixed with my own style of writing. Wish me luck!_


	2. Dogma II 01 A Pretentious Past

_**A Pretentious Past**_

* * *

Memories are like running water slipping through the crevices of imprinted flesh. Each groove empty and vast, waiting for the resilient forces of nature to welcome its unknown path. Until the spaces between become consumed with enough liquid that it overflows, running across the edges into an abyss. Some, which are left to be remembered, stay within their own path. While as others, which are left to be forgotten, wither away in tiny, significant droplets. From what I can recall and most of what I was told, it didn't seem to matter until I was old enough to believe them.

I was sitting on a hard, solid, wooden chair, which leaned to one side every time I shifted my balance from anxiousness. Always, I never contained enough discipline to master the art of sitting still, or even in one spot for very long. Impulsive at best, there were better scenarios that I had recently played out in my head than the one in which I resided. This would be one of the greatest tests of my patience that I ever had to endure.

My case-worker sat across from me, clicking her pen routinely after flipping a page to the file. "You've out done yourself this time, Ms. Sloane." Trying not to mask a genuine smile on my lips proved impossible. Some things were better short-lived than not at all. "I honestly don't have another home set in place for your next outburst." Apparently, she had misjudged my disapproval of the family unit.

To be completely honest, they were a fun-loving, psychotic group of individuals with a set routine to absolutely every given moment. And with that set routine, involved one of my least favorite activities to date.

"Technically, it wasn't my fault." I state against her biased opinion. It seemed as though she had made up her mind, rejecting my point of view as valid upon excuse. That would not have been a first either.

Tapping her chin, she sighs defiantly. "And, you call shoving the priest into one of the alter boys an accident, I suppose." Try not to laugh. Do not laugh. I pride myself on having control. Again, her pencil-shaped eyebrow rises in determination for my bleak moment of humor.

Shrugging both my shoulders, I confide in the truth. At least, the one truth I was sure of. "What a liar. He fell. He wasn't pushed." Especially by my standards and if I had a chance to relive the current situation, I would have let the holy man fall into the church pews, face down in a hymnal. Crossing my arms, I groan and lean back in the stiff chair.

"What reason would he have to lie, Leila?" She croaks.

"Why would I?"

"Why would you?" Between the two of us, we were similar in many ways. But all the same, we were different. Sometimes, I prayed for a better understanding to what was spoken. Of all things, I took the fall for every one of my foster family's incompetence. Maybe, they just never wanted someone like me. Someone who thought for themselves rather than being brought up like a mindless cyborg with less human emotion than a rusty toaster. "Look." Her eyes welled with a sense of sympathy for my mistake. "My back is up against a wall here. I can't bend anymore rules than the ones you've already broken. Accident or not, I have no choice but to send you to a group home-"

"No!" Screaming was completely useless by this point.

"It's out of my control." It was a lie I continued to refuse. "Besides, you're seventeen. You'll learn how to fend for yourself out in the real world soon enough. Why rush it?" Because, I didn't want to be homeless and begging for change just outside the blessed house of the Lord.

"I can't go back. Please, if there's anything you can do?" Of course, graveling on my knees would partake in the actual action of getting down on my knees and summoning a lucky rabbit's foot out of nowhere. I was screwed beyond compare. More than that, I couldn't stand sitting in this hard chair, which was giving me a fair form of discomfort.

Somehow, I had a way with letting my eyes speak directly. "Alright. I might have a couple of files lined up for questioning." Crossing my fingers read too eager. "But, you have to promise me," An invisible cross motions amongst my chest before I clasp my palms together. When I come back from the prayer, the case-worker is waiting. "-promise me that you won't go causing trouble." Rolling my eyes, I spat out a displeased gesture of distress. "No fireworks, no drugs, no sex, no violence, no stealing and so help me God if you even think about having a child in accordance to any of the previous engagements."

I nod as she hands a signed slip of paper over the desk. "You've got nothing to worry about, Mrs. Hicks"

"I pray not."

* * *

After leaving the case-worker's office, I trailed down the street leading towards the main intersection where people shuffled around in a circle. Eyes hovered over the scene as shock read across everyone's expressions, except for mine. Accidents happen everyday, especially in a big city like New York. Previous to this location, I had lived in Chicago, Cincinnati and Miami. Big as this one was, it didn't phase me when someone got hurt or died in the process of revival. To me, I always knew there had to be a reason why it happened.

Because when you normally witness a horrific event, it should make your stomach turn, make your face contorted in such a degree of puzzlement and it should definitely cause some sort of grievance. I never mourned a death. My second family that I lived with for sixteen months in Cincinnati had a son with Leukemia. His name was Joshua, Josh for short. He was seven years old when he had been diagnosed and by the time I was adopted into their household, he was bed-ridden. Now, from time to time, I still thought back on how someone so little could be given such little chance to live.

I was just ten years of age when I realized how death hadn't affected me. The kid sat up in bed as his parents, and older siblings, went to the cafeteria for food. It had been twenty-four hours of non-stop watch after the first scare. Josh flat-lined during the doctor's first routine check-up. He blamed it on the diet, but I suspected different. It was late at night when I finally fell asleep in the armchair next to his bedside. I figured it was a better use of my time, better use of servitude, if I watched the kid's health. At least, for his parent's sake, I thought it was better on all fronts.

Thinking back on it, I would have rather gone to school. But, it wasn't because I couldn't handle seeing the kid in a deteriorating state. It was the fact that I couldn't accept his future, or the one he would never have. He could never grow to understand how, or even why, his death meant more to some than others. Not that I wasn't emotional. There was a sadness to behold in someone who lost something so precious that they didn't even know it was gone. That something being life and all its unforeseen experiences.

I watched his ventilator compress and stretch back like that of an accordion. The noise finally became familiar enough for me to close my eyelids. It's always a tough adjustment during the night time. Nothing sounds the same as before and if it felt uncertain at any interval, I would wake up instantly in midst of a slumber. A beep alerted my instincts at one of those rare intervals.

Josh remained still even though the system graphed a subtle glitch of disturbance from his heart. I looked up at the line that had broken the sequence of the rhythm. It restored back to a normal state, and I calmed my nerves. Just a tick, I thought. That, and nothing more. Then, it sounded again. This time, it lasted longer than before and just a few moments longer, his heart began to beat again. I just stared confused while catching a glance in the monitor at his face. His chest hadn't risen or fallen in the last minute that the incident took place. Then, the final bleep contained that last note before he found eternal bliss.

Since that night, it had been hard to describe anything else. All I can remember is a ringing noise, which didn't heed until the doctor walked through the door. At that point, it had grown louder as I had my palms covering my ears, still screaming at the sound. The doctor came closer to inspect the situation before allowing the nurses to take over. Once his eyes faltered upon mine, I screamed out about something like a 'light' over his shoulder. He told the foster parents what had happened, and they determined I was physiologically unhealthy from being exposed to such an incident. They thought it had been 'unfair' to have put me in a situation that caused a negative, and severe, trauma. So, upon that notion, they decided to release me from the adoption. I guess they didn't want to hear my side, or even begin to understand. It wasn't my fault, and I just accepted the rejection like so many others. To me and to them, it wasn't worth an explanation.

So, observing the accident from afar. My suspicions increased dramatically as the familiar ringing aroused that lone memory. It was in my nature to have answers. "Hey," I nudge one of the citizens to my left. "Do you know what happened?" Asking seemed routine to her as though she had been asked the same line numerous times. Slowly, she turns a cheek to whisper in order to explain.

"A man fell from the sky." My eyes widen to the response. Accidents like these don't happen everyday. Rain falls from the skies, not men. Between the shoulders of the other spectators, I see only the back of the man. There was no evidence to show he had made an impact against the stone surface of the ground. There was no puddle of blood, no liquid spilling from any angle that was visible. The only harm done from the fall, which could be observed, were the two slits in the back of the shoulder blades. His maroon shirt conveyed nothing of hurt, of pain, or even infliction.

"Is he dead?" I ask, and the lady shook her head from left to right while shrugging her own shoulders.

"No one knows." Faintly, she speaks, aware of the surrounding chaos.

Bright lights of red and blue flash out of the corner of my eye. That's when I remembered the break from my educational establishment. Surely, the cops should understand? I mean, given the circumstances, this was impossible to avoid since the crosswalk would have been the most safe, and most logical, path to take rather than getting hit by a bus in a final destination moment. Maybe, I would be smart and advise myself to take the road less traveled by? Smart was safe while the unknown was not.

* * *

"Nice of you to join us, Ms. Sloane." Once the creak in the door sufficed my lateness, I concurred with the English teacher. Having half the students in class rotate their necks in a thirty-five degree angle and glare menacingly at what was once a peaceful setting towards learning made the nape of my neck drop ever so slightly from the intrusion. It was like they thought I was trying to piss every adult figure off in a matter of seconds. Not that I wouldn't attempt the feat, it was just that I succeeded too many times for them to believe any different of me.

At the back of the seated desks, I found Ben, who was one of the more philosophical, aged teenagers. If there was something wrong with the political or religious system, he was there to set people straight. I guess no one really has enough balls to do it in today's society but in all honesty, they should. People can, and will, fall for anything they want to believe is true, which saddens the expectations of a modern day society.

"Where were you?" He asks before I get shushed by twelve other people in the room. I raise an eyebrow and stick out my tongue in the process of retaliation.

"I was-" I begin.

"Ms. Sloane!" What is so damn important today that people feel the absolute need to use my last name?!

"I'll tell you later." I mumble from the corner of my mouth. The teacher already didn't seem pleased with my outburst in the beginning nor did she seem tolerant of my constant bickering at the back. What do you want from me? Silence? Actually, in all honesty, that's what everyone would rather have from us at this age. Somehow, I felt I would be much louder than those who kept quiet, kept safe.

She glares one last time as I see my arch nemesis mock the notion of me cradling my ears from the noise earlier. As the teacher points the dry erase marker back to the board for the notes, I practice my silence by using sign language in the form of my middle finger. Her nose turns up in disgust while I nod to Ben for acceptance. He approves before scurrying back to the actual lesson.

Benji and I have been friends for the past two years. Within that time frame, I went through about two different foster families around this area. Obviously, it was big enough for a multitude of social classes to be thrown together in a mixing pot. The first family I was with came from the upper East side, which to my dismay made them entirely one hundred percent hypocritical of everyone without two cents, or even a dime, to their name. Very snooty people who treasured their green-tinted, bills with notable dead Americans plastered to one side instead of their actual children. When it came to me, they must have thrown the dart completely off the board as far as expectations.

For a year straight, I couldn't imagine coveting anything more than cash. The clothes, the books, the random gifts were extravagant, but I didn't work for any of them. And, I don't know if I considered their silver spoon method to be recognizable by any standards of humbleness. It seemed as though they expected people to open doors and move to one side of the street, but I never fit in. That, and I never saw them much after I started making friends at school. Ironically, I made enemies too.

Thinking back on the event that brought me to this place was horrid. I always had a knack for piling up stacks of random papers for my case-workers. To me, I could never find a family or a place to call home. And before this transition to New York, I was recently in Chicago, Illinois. Dealing with a mother, who was addicted to pain killers while her husband had an affair with one of the doctors who diagnosed her. There was nothing to conceal me from their wrongs. I had yet to see what would have been right in any of them. Each one had fallen apart, or separated because of a death, an addiction, adultery or even just untruthfulness. It amazed me what lies they could tell and not think twice about the repercussions of the outcome to them.

Of course, the second foster family that finally took me in after the first one failed was my choice. They were the only ones Mrs. Hicks actually presented to me in her office amongst the stacks of papers. So many people wanted a child, not a teenager. So, that slimmed down half the contestants. I guess what shocked me about this one, particular group was that they went to church every week if not twice. That, and their father was a newly, ordained minister. Naturally, I didn't admire going to church but I enjoyed having others drag me to it. I learned a ton in the first few months than I had in the last fifteen years.

And how I came to meet Benji, is a whole other story. First off, the kid has one of the most rugged features you find on a teenager. He towered over everyone in school during my actual first day. I don't think I ever asked his name because I hadn't really made that many friends until about a month later in the library. He tends to put on a stealthy, don't mess with me attitude even though if you talked with him for one whole minute, you would realize he's knowledgeable on about every subject known to man. That, and underneath everything everyone else was afraid of, he wasn't that much of a blood thirsty punk. Just a simple, shop class, hoody-wearing, beanie representing, steel blue-eyed, blondie with little to no toleration towards the Catholic church and their beliefs. So, it must have been a good thing that I had chosen a church-going family with a minister for a father, right?

You should have been there for his first impression of me. His face was priceless.

Well, one of my many duties as the minister's step-daughter was to refill the wine glasses and stack the empty ones on top of the tray before the next group of people kneeled and prayed in thanks. That can only continue as well as planned if, and only if, the minister has to bless a child. Unfortunate for me, I did not know anything about that. Needless to say, before I even had a chance to move out of his way, I backed up into the podium, which still had the microphone on full blast. Because, when it came down to it, I either had to deal with the minister's bulbous butt in my lap or humiliate myself in front of an entire congregation of righteous saints. I chose option B. And, to be honest with you, it isn't something I'm all too proud about because the second my back collided with the solid wood surface and the sound reverberated back to the pews, laughter rose from the seats. To my surprise, they happened to be filming this particular ceremony up above on the balcony. So, my lap avoids butt but my butt doesn't avoid the sonic boom of surround sound. And, to capture it all on tape, Benji was the director.

" Nice hit." He stated, coming down the spiral staircase while clapping. "I'm extremely impressed." By the time he made it to the bottom step, I had my arms crossed.

"Did you happen to get my good side?" Snorting a laugh, Ben appeased my question.

"Why?" Looking down at the carpet as a couple of people passed by us, he raised his own curiosity. "Do you have a better side?" Now, it was my turn to laugh.

"I'm Leila. Leila Sloane." I shook hands with him only to notice the raised skin cutting across his right wrist. Quickly, he pulled back before I had a second to investigate the scar.

Catching a glare from the minister at the alter, he stumbled upon his next response. "Sloane, that's an Irish surname meaning warrior. What do you fight for?"

"World peace," I retorted, following his steps towards the entrance of the church. "You know, the usual." Nodding, he accepted the verdict.

"A noble cause for a noble warrior," Once we reach the fresh air, I contained my voice while smiling underneath the shadows of the trees.

"So, what do they call someone who documents an important piece of history?" I asked.

"And, makes an entire group of people believe in it?" He tapped his finger to his chin. "Simple, a hypocrite." I eyed him seriously. "Benjamin Michaels, Benji for short." We shook hands again before a crowd of people exited through the tight entrance.

"So, is there any chance I could get that piece of documented history back anytime soon?" My hands begged for mercy in his prescience.

Not even a second after the plead did he nod his head. "I'll have to think about it."

"Oh, come on!" I twisted my stance in front of his path. "It's not even that interesting." It was just hilariously embarrassing to the community and my future children. "Please, Benji." Sadden eyes confronted his negative motives.

His composure read solid. "You might have to fight for it, Sloane." What part of world peace did he not understand?

* * *

"Okay," The bell finally rang through the sound system in the school. "So, what's up?" Hearing concern in Benji's voice started to make me very agitated. He shouldn't have worried so much but then again, I was absolutely terrible when it came to explaining anything important.

I huff out an exasperated sigh. "Well," I begin faintly as he stares. Students were flooding the hallways left and right, shoving passerby's into their lockers. "You know the Carson's, right?"

He nodded in acceptance of the name. Of course, why wouldn't he? He despises their ritualistic ways, not to even mention their beliefs. "Yeah, I despise them." Duh, I'm an idiot.

"Well good because I'm no longer a part of their family unit anymore." I state unsure of his actual processing of information. When his cheeks puffed out in response to the notion, I smirked. "I thought you'd be okay with it."

"No, no…" Laughing at himself in wake of the situation. "I just thought it was something more serious."

"Like what?"

"I don't know; it's stupid, Lae." Urging him to admit the truth, I insisted on his answer.

"No, come on. What did you think I was going to say?" Eyes follow us through the crowd at a distance. The hairs on the back of my neck began to rise every so often from the feeling. I felt like we weren't alone. Like, we were being watched.

"What's wrong?" Benji followed the traced path of interruption.

"Nothing, quit avoiding the question." I huffed out, aware of his methods.

"Alright, Sloane." He started off. "I thought maybe you were moving outside the city." I began to laugh more furiously than before. "Hey," Confiding in the remark, Ben took a step backwards, opening his palms to the idea. "It's a possibility."

"Let me guess." It's his turn to cross his arms while he tapped his foot to the floor. "You missed me-" Walking off in the opposite direction, I followed behind his trail. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Benji. A ton of people get separation anxiety early in life." Stopping at a halt, he points a finger in the air and says nothing. "When I first met you, I couldn't get you to shut up. Now, you're the shy one?!" I hollered over people's heads. As expected, they hindered their movements based upon my shouting. "Fine!" I yelled once more to satisfy their intrigue. What the hell was up with that kid lately?

One of my better past times was figuring out ways to make optimal use of my time at school. And, by that, I meant trying to devise plans to get out of class. Art was also one of the easier classes to miss out on because the teacher who taught the subject was so lenient on any of the strict rules. Lurking the halls with a paddle engraved with the meaning of the word: hall pass, should have read as a safe card amongst even the most defensive of creatures to oppose to my creative habits. I had a tendency to neglect the rules that my fellow classmates so ultimately adhered to based upon punishment.

The minute I was about confronted with an interrogation to my whereabouts, I fled to the nearest bathroom. Breathing in and out, my lungs relieved the pressure. "Cutting class, again?" Damn, I turned to the opening stall as my eyelids shut from frustration. "Typical, rebellious minister's step-daughter-"

"Ex, step-daughter," I mumbled out of anger.

Her laugh resounded back to my ears, making my spine straighten. "Ha, predictable." She sundered over to the sink before turning the facet on to continue. "I heard a disturbing rumor the other day." My head craned in her direction as my jaw clenched.

"Wouldn't be how much the student body loathes the former president, Sidney Barker?" I snapped back. "Because, I don't believe that to be something of a rumor." The facet lowered its pressure as she stepped back to dry her hands. In the process, Sidney glares a look of true hatred.

"No," She tossed the paper towel into the trash. "It's not so much a rumor. I should have clarified on that fact."

"And, what fact is that?" My temperature raised in an instant.

"That your real mother wasn't just a whore who had a child out of wedlock." She sneers at my gaze, trying to prompt a reaction. I refused to give her one. "She was suicide case as well." A smack envelopes the small of her cheek after the last sentence. Benji would have been proud since he knows I'm a pacifist. I don't believe in petty fights, or standing to bare arms against an impossible force. I still made an exception for Sidney. "Looking at the image in front of me, I don't see any difference."

I don't condone violence; I just abide by its ever-changing standards. After she attempted to duck from the first punch I threw at her face, the second blow caught her straight on target. I watched her spew blood onto the tiled floor before raising her glance to mine. We used to see eye to eye with one another, trust one another. But, those days of abused, and irrelevant conversations, about life and past histories meant nothing after my social status deteriorated. Not that I didn't want one. I just would rather have had Benji as a friend and have the other half of the socially dignified student body loathe the other half of my personality traits.

Shadowing over my victim, I noticed her cling to her chest in a hyperventilated state. Her eyes began to bulge out of their sockets before I saw her motion at the lone stall across from us. "What the hell is that?!" I breathe out, lifting Sidney upwards. Petrified, we stayed on the far end of the bathroom near the mirrors. We were too terrified to even take a step towards the door as the monstrous, and foul-smelling, animal exerted its structured legs in our general direction. All I could think was that I would have wanted died in any other place than a disgusting, and horrid odor-infested, bathroom with anyone else rather than Sidney Barker. Is it too late to make amends with Benji?

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_**A/N:**__The first chapter's always the hardest to write for me because you want to add so much information but still keep some things a mystery to the reader. If you do come across this fanfic, feel free to leave a review below. I really do appreciate the feedback and if you're a member of the site, I'm more apt to check out your creative story endeavors as well. Thanks for reading. _


	3. Dogma II 02 Second to Last

_**Second to Last**_

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Sometimes it's faster to admit when you're wrong than when you're right. Being righteous was never a quality admired by myself. I always imagined what my mother was like, not just in looks but in personality. Maybe she was self-reliant and headstrong? Maybe she was vain and domineering? Maybe she was a control freak? Maybe, just maybe, she might have been self-sacrificing? Is it possible that she liked to butter her toast before adding jelly? Or, is it possible that she had a knack for being sarcastically hypocritical when others made the same decision as her but with different reasons altogether? I just, wonder. I just, imagine because I never really knew the real her. But, of course, imagining isn't the same as having the truth ringing through your ears.

When I was six years old, I remembered the woman who took care of me. She had dark hair, almost black in color. I guess my features oddly resembled hers except that her skin was just a couple of shades darker than my own. I liked to call her Sarah even though I didn't recall what her actual name was. That part of my memory erased itself to the point where the information blurred into a non-existent form.

"You're mother was beautiful, Lae." Sarah smiles over at me from a far. I dug into the sand with my shovel before entering the contents into an empty pail. "She would have loved to have met you." I laughed when she flipped the pail upside down, revealing the shape. My eyes opened a little wider as I turned the empty pail over, trying to investigate its magic.

"Mommy was funny, right?" I asked her.

Sarah waited a moment and then gleamed at a miscellaneous event as it played across her face. I sat on her lap, peering at the church in the distance, which the architecture resembled that of a Roman Catholic cathedral. "She had a perky sense of humor." A chuckle escapes her vocals when she realizes the second creation to her original sand structure. Together, they stood side by side next to each other. I was happy because I felt like she was my one last connection towards my birth mother.

All I knew was that her last name was Sloane. Which through the years, I fought to keep my original title and surname rather than appeasing the many adopted names my foster families tried to get me to accept. Because, she was still a part of me as long as I kept the name sacred and alive. It was something that I finally had a right to object to.

Agreed or not, the absolute worst part of not knowing who you are or where you came from is almost as bad as being nothing. Standing next to Sidney, I curdled at the unwanted bond being manipulated into forgery. The creature growled in rapture of our elongated facial expressions. It was one thing to say I was scared shitless. But even irony would have found considerable humor within that cliché line.

"Scion!" It screamed out, and I winced in a confused state as it stated the word over and over while motioning in my general direction.

Barker turned her neck to look at my expression. "What's it saying?!" She looked extremely annoyed and pissed off at the entire situation. I mean, we were in peril! What else could I have possibly been responsible for today?! "And, why does it keep talking to you?"

"I don't know!" I didn't want to know either. With my luck. I was hoping it was somehow going to eat my arch nemesis and former friend. All I could do was choke out words while gasping for clean air. I flipped the collar of my shirt above my nose, trying to mask the horrid stench.

The beast took a step closer as we backed into the surrounding wall. We were running out of space and time. It continued its rant like before except making the message more menacing than previous threats. "Scion! You will be the last in creation of man. I will destroy the righteous heir to the throne because she has the appearance of the creator and answers to the name of Sloane!"

"Okay," Sidney put her palms face-down. "-I think I understood it that time." My eyes widen as she took another step forward. "We come in peace." After she stated this notion, I felt the need to do a face palm. Really, Barker? For a millisecond, the thing stood in a stunned position, just staring at Sidney and her hypothetical balls that I didn't know existed. Damn, that's surprising.

"Sloane!" It belched outwards, spewing some perforated residue onto her face. I covered my mouth in shock as the event happened.

"I could be wrong, but it obviously wants you." A hand slid across her cheek as she turned to look back at me. I tried not to laugh directly in front of her unfortunate mishap.

"Let's get out of here, Barker." I say unintentionally.

"Why didn't you say so?" She retorts.

We both shove each other during the process of escape. Slamming our shoulders into the door frame, the handle jiggled back and forth in wake of our efforts. My arch nemesis begged for me to move first in order to let her through the path. What she didn't realize was that I wasn't a good Samaritan anymore and that I didn't owe her any respects and that so included the copied assignments, false answers to replies, and even midnight run for her fast food cravings. What were friends good for if not to order around. Later on, I found my purpose to be in control of one thing -myself. I guess she had a severe misunderstanding to that form of independence.

Once another growl made us jump away, I lunged at the handle and pivoted the structure to where it accepted the directional turn. Amazed upon response, it opened. But before I even had a chance to smell the scent of fresh, and clean, air, Sidney ran in front of the exit and shoved me backwards into the bathroom. It must have been stress that made my stomach turn. That, or the purged sense of putrid feces.

Not that I had never been thrown on my back, just not so I was lying underneath a massive piece of shit. Excuse me, monster made of excrement unmentionable to mankind. Unbelievable as I felt, I knew to scrunch my knees and elbows while planting my palms to the floor as well as my feet before I kicked off the ground. Practice apparently took two tries.

The second try succeeded to in getting my butt off the floor. At any other circumstance, I would have loved to be fortunate. I failed miserably, like I never predicted. Especially now as I stared into my doom, an annoying light broke my focus. And, the all familiar ringing noise surmounted to the forefront of all my senses. Covering the canals to drown out the perpetual pain, I felt a weakness wash over my fallen strength, preventing me from fighting back.

So, this is what the divine end looks like? Bleak and plain, except for the image of a woman I saw in the park that day with Sarah. She smiled and turned down a path towards a man with auburn hair and dark, dark eyes. His hood stuck out from underneath his trench coat as it swayed against the winds. I don't know why my brain decided to recall a random memory which didn't exist for eleven years. And, one as to which I couldn't place its importance of meaning.

Repeating her smile, I could feel the pressure subside ever so slowly until I was able to focus on the figures in the room with me. It was hard to distinguish faces, but all I could find familiar was a faded maroon shirt in midst of the fall. I closed my eyes to favor the blackness.

* * *

Skies roamed overhead amongst the contrasting glow of the Sun. The thunder stumbled at a costly rate, insuring the rain to follow. It was beautiful here when the grass was freshly mowed and the flowers bloomed. There was a leniency amongst my attitude that I couldn't place. I found happiness here where the edges of the gaps became filled little by little due to the explosion of life and everything in a constant state of growth. I couldn't be old enough to remember how I came to be. Then, like rewind, I see Sarah in front of me with the bucket full of sand, showing me her illusion. I was back in the park as the event rewound itself into another repetition, where I observed the scene from a far. I felt like I was missing something.

After the sand structure presented its contents, my younger self continued to discover the mystery within the emptiness of its shell. Then, a familiar feeling washed over the memory while I changed the direction towards the trail tracing around the pond. The woman from before smiled faintly before confronting the man with the hooded trench coat. His eyes still were darker than night as he watched the scene down the path. My eyes follow his gaze until they rested on my six year old self. His whispers were contently serious and promising upon response because after he finished his last word, she stole a final glance a part from the knowledge.

She looked directly through me and at my former youth. The younger me paused once the second sand structure revealed its masterpiece from the bucket. There was a strange sense of knowing between the three of us. I saw myself stare off into the distance when she turned with the man in order to leave. When I followed the glance, I attempted to run after them. I was unsuccessful due to my efforts of patience. I didn't expect the time to lapse and when it did, I pleaded with it to remain. I had already lost the answers I sought so much to catch, only to watch them flutter away into the breeze. As I rounded the corner of the boundary line, in which they disappeared, all I could decipher was a sign that read: Redbank, New Jersey Parkside.

The image of the embossed words became blurred in resolution before my natural senses kicked back into reality. A foul, and revolting, smell filled my nostrils and choked my gag reflexes. Opening my eyelids, I immediately winced in wake of the strong stench. "Ah, who farted?" I exclaimed, covering my mouth mid-gasp. Taking in fresh oxygen seemed to have been an extremely awful idea. Why couldn't I just stay unconscious and discover what I still didn't understand?

"Well, I wouldn't say fart-" My elbows braced my back as I arched to see the crusader. Somehow, I got the distinct feeling something was off. And as disgusting as the odor was on the floor, it was even worse standing. It must have been from the higher inhalation of oxygen compared to my once, comatose state from before. "-more like crap." His posture shifted from slouch to noble in an instant as he drew the space closer between us. "Are you alright, Leila?"

"Define alright." I joked, brushing off the random debris from the fall.

He smirked at the attempt of relieving stress. "Your sense of humor is still in tact, I see." It was my turn to laugh, a slight and small chuckle to the near death-defying event. "One of your many talents, of which we would sorely miss."

"Speaking of sore," I bother him for a second. "What was the thing that took little to no effort to toss me to the ground like a rag doll?" We both motion our gaze over to the slushy mess of a disturbing creature. "Not to mention what it spewed all over Barker-" The man in the maroon shirt looks upwards in appreciation of the achievement. It was then that I came to notice the two slits in the back shoulder blades to his dress shirt attire. "-That was cool."

He breathes a breath out in exhaustion. "This creature is one of the foulest to be on the run from. That I have to admit."

"Does it have a name?" I ask out of blunt curiosity.

"They call it a Golgothan."

I nod in acknowledgment. "Who's they?" Asking seemed repetitive at this point.

"The Damned," He states all-knowingly.

"Uh-huh," Raising an eyebrow to his awkward answer, I contain the knot of restless vomit working its way up through my esophagus. "And, what do they call you?" He paused for a moment, retracing his own thoughts before revealing any intentional information. Then, when he finally came to, he responded in a way that made me uncomfortable.

"I was, once, a Seraph of Death." Heaving out the last word strained his vocals. "They called me Loki." His hand extends out towards mine. I grasp the unshakable intuition of knowing. The ringing sensation from earlier had seized until now. A curdling pain sent shock waves through my system of natural impairment. I couldn't focus on anything close to me besides the faint glow of a man in a maroon shirt. Except, this time, I knew him not to be a man at all.

I dropped to my knees in agony once more. Still, I didn't expect to have my nerves harassed in such a way that I felt helpless in during the fight. It took all my strength and more to confide in what was actually being said compared to what had actually been happening. With me, things were never as simple as waking up, realizing that the new day would be the last day for anything reality could offer in retaliation to my sanity. Every time the ringing persists, a new dread overwhelms my psyche, causing the pressure to build within my skull. The longer it remained; the longer it sufficed in its torturing. And, this was definitely the longest it had ever remained. I almost couldn't breathe until the blur of colors in front of me changed radically on the spot.

"Lae, it's alright!" All I could make out was the black, hooded sweatshirt and beanie. "Lae!" Underneath my structure, I began to notice the ground shake while I couldn't repair the bearings of my supporting posture. Everything moved at a considerable pace, not giving a chance to slow down. Yet, at the same notion, everything still moved in conjunct to the quickened speed. "Lae, can you hear me?" I wanted to respond in any way, shape, or form. I wanted to tell Benji what I knew hadn't really happened, but the stupid, persistent, ringing won over his pleading yells.

* * *

"Lae?" I stared up at the ceiling where an annoying ball of light hindered my pupils. "How many fingers am I holding up?" Looking down the medical gown after observing all the temperamental tubes and cords I was hooked up to, I found one of the most crude smirks that I had ever been given. Despite the circumstances, I should have known him to be caring at heart. "Well? How many?"

Laughing caused a coarse moan to escape my throat. "Zero." I answer as he puts his thumb down.

"So, how are you doing kid?" Benji asks, still smiling while I tried to sit up. "That's probably not a good idea right now." Pushing my chest back into the pillows, I whimper in the effort of independence. "Last time you attempted to get up, they gave you some sleeping medicine." He waves an arm off through the break in the door while the doctor with the clip board nodded in our direction. A false wave followed by an obscene gesture made me chuckle even harder.

"Hard to believe I was awake before." Clutching the surrounding blanket, I covered more of my body. "Did I say anything?" And, by anything, I meant anything weird or abnormal. Something that the average known world would never deem acceptable on grounds of which would be psychologically healthy.

"Nothing that really made much sense." I craned my neck to look at him with serious eyes.

"Like what?"

"I don't know." Scratching his head, he retorts off-key. "They've got you doped up on so many drugs right now." Breathing out, the notes in his voice lingered throughout the room.

"I don't remember anything, Benji." In confidence, I say this.

"Really?" Tilting his head, his golden locks fluttered across his forehead. A flash of remembrance stirred, weak-willed in union with the motion. Why couldn't I remember? "What's two times four?"

It was my turn to be smug since every test failed on his part. "Eight."

"Your brain seems to be working just fine. You just have short-term memory loss?" Confiding in something that outrageous would seem hypocritical. Then again, if a person likes to say one thing and do another, that's just coined a simple phrase in our modern society: free will. "When I found you in the bathroom, you had seized up on the floor. I tried to get you to wake up, but it was like you weren't there. I didn't know what to do; so I called for help." Sighing, he replies to the thoughts. "I've never been more terrified in my life and I've had a gun pointed at my face once before."

"How did you know I was in the bathroom?" That was a good question.

A snort comes to his mind about the situation. "Well, it wasn't too hard hearing Barker scream from the end of the hallway and over my saw in wood shop." I smiled inside. "She kept hollering something about a giant, poop monster seeking revenge on Sloane. That, and she was covered in this caked, and smelly, gunk. So, I put two and two together and suspected you cut class and skipped into the bathroom for refuge." Pausing, I can already notice the corners of his dimples turn upwards in recollection. "I didn't know the rest until I found you on the floor."

I clap after his monologue. "Brilliant, Michaels." He really deserves an award for this one. Too bad, I'm in no acceptable position to grant him anything.

The doctor walks in to check on his patient. I wince over to Benji, waiting for the part about parents and legal guardians to be explained. As of now, I should be owned by the state of New York and all its various monsters it thus inhabits. "You seem to have recovered well after the seizure. Just some minor scrapes and bruises from the fall. Also, the layers of muscle on the outside of your tongue were severely harmed. You have quite a bite, Ms. Sloane."

"More so, everyone tells her." Benji chimes in while I motion for him to cut it out.

"We'll have to keep you for observation tonight since this is the first reported episode. We want to make sure everything runs smoothly in the recovery process and make sure that the chances of having another episode are slim to none." I nod in response to everything the doctor said. It sounded good but bad. "Now, would you happen to have any immediate family to contact to let them know you're in the hospital?"

"I-uh, I-" I start poorly.

"I'm her brother."

"What?" I mouth out to Benji as he smacks my left arm. "Right, my brother." Stating this off books was one of the more awkward instances in my life. Talk about friends being friends and then, friends becoming brother and sister. This was one incident I would have rather had a seizure so I couldn't recall it taking place.

"I'll report back to the family unit."

"Keep an eye on her for me." The doctor instructs before leaving the hospital room.

"No worries, doc." Smacking the back of Benji's head made me feel triumphant in behavior but resolute in my actions.

* * *

Hospitals have an odd sense of creepiness, disturbed by the possible shortcomings of death. To think of what poor souls have walked through and never returned past the light which offers mercy was ultimately heartbreaking. To be completely honest, this was my absolute, first visit that centered around my episode. The doctors continued to reach a solid conclusion based upon the events, although altered from the truth, became certain.

"Epilepsy?" I questioned the diagnosis with a wrinkled forehead.

"Well, it would explain your reaction to light, or your sensitivity to it, I should say. Sometimes, it alters the brain's functions, causing hallucinations and in severe cases, the inability to use any motor functions." The way in which Benji paced back and forth made me nervous. Here, you have this stoic, and knowledgeable, guy in a white coat explaining the circumstances to which ways you don't function like a natural human being.

"What about the ringing sensation during the episodes?" He takes a swallow while Ben pauses in his restlessness. "Is that normal?" My gaze meets the two of them.

"Sometimes, certain symptoms happen within range of the central nervous system. It's possible that the seizures stemmed from there, impairing your hearing ability and causing harsh ringing due to the actual episodes being instigated by the flashing lights." Tapping his finger to his chin appeared redundant enough. These weren't the answers I expected, let alone come to accept. "The ringing could have remained dormant underneath all the other symptoms without partial, or full, recognition."

"You mean, it was pre-existing?" Great, I feel special.

The man in white huffs out a solidified sigh. "That's what we've come to believe." Looking back at the clipboard he held in his arms, I shuddered from the chilling aspect of unknown danger. I was more afraid learning the possibilities than I was having them. "For now, we'll get you started on an anticonvulsant medication and see if you have any immunity to it. Hopefully, you don't." His laugh fell flat in the moment. Sometimes, it turned out to be harder to accept the facts if they weren't written down. Instead, it was engraved on the medical bracelet around my left wrist.

When the light finally faded from the windowsill, Ben took a seat next to the chair closest to my bed. "I can't believe I'm a fall risk." I say out loud, not intending on self-pity.

"It could be worse." Taking off his beanie, he twirled it around his index finger until stopping to study my face. "You could be dead, Lae." Seriousness rose within his tone of voice. I didn't want to sound winy or even remotely self-centered. I just didn't understand anything anymore. How the Carsons thought I was a freak right off the bat for not believing in their way of teaching Christianity. How Benji thought I was an idiot for giving into their beliefs without having any contradictions based upon my own subjective thoughts. He knew me well enough to know not to push and when to shove. I guess that's why we stuck around each other for so long. So now, as I dared not to look him in the face and see eye to eye what he really thought of a situation that was beyond my stubborn control, I avoided the sentence. "I guess I didn't realize how serious any of this was until the doctor started explaining it. You don't know how lucky you are to be alive." Don't make me cry. Do not make me cry. I can't produce tears in front of you. "You don't know how lucky I feel to have found you before things got worse. And this, is definitely worse."

"Maybe death intended to keep me for another purpose." I laugh sarcastically. Benji doesn't find it as appealing of a joke as I intended for it to be. A seizure-prone patient can try, can't she? Well, it seemed that the only way for him to have put up with me for this long had to be because of my endearing wits, right? "I have to use the bathroom." Stating this, I leaned forward, forgetting about the unnatural hookups holding me back from making it to the toilet. Damn, this was going to be harder than standing on my own.

"Hey, Sloane-" Benji grips my shoulders before pulling me onto the mattress. Unaware that my gown was untied, he quickens his posture before revealing a smug smirk around his cheeks. "-nice butt." Rolling eyes suited a proper exposure to the element of displeased awkwardness. As far as I was concerned, Death could end my embarrassment from this current life.

* * *

**_A/N:_ **_Again, beginning a story is easier said than done. This chapter, in particular, was more of a challenge to write due to the foreshadows and introductions of the true characters from the original storyline. I'm still working on how to bring them back together and still keep them separated. All while experiencing the main character's journey to discover her past and what truths it holds about her future. So far, it's just the start of what has yet to come. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy updating it. If you would like to post a review, I would greatly appreciate it!_


	4. Dogma II 03 Four-Leaf Clovers, Not Lucky

_**Four-Leaf Clovers, Not Lucky**_

* * *

Silence reigned throughout the hallways. Long and dark, except for a mere flickering of dim lighting to suffice the evidence of solid objects along the walls. Portraits of random greenery with barren paths leading to nowhere produced an unsettling desire of anxiousness. That's when I saw her from the corner of my eye. Brief for a second, it seduced my attention. Her strands of hair whisked around the lone corner before disappearing on the other end. Her back had been turned; yet, I knew her prescience well enough to confide in its presentation. She was gone. If for a bleak recollection of time and space, she surfaced amongst the chaos of flames subdued to her wanderings. Were she alive, then she wouldn't be a figment of my imagination or memories.

A tear jerked me awake in union with the single cry erupting from my vocals. "Mom!" I screamed out into the darkness, scaring Benji back into consciousness. Trying to wipe the wet from my cheeks before he turned to observe my night terror, the moonlit window reveals the action of concealment.

"Lae," He starts, but I turn away almost automatically in embarrassment. His fingertips retreat away from my body from the touch. Suddenly, I felt alone once released from the grasp. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" The blanket, which was a thin sheet of white, covered the better half of my mouth, muffling the words I wanted to confess. He doesn't need to know this. "Is it about your mother?" Asking seemed rude at the time, but it was all he knew that constantly kept me in doubt about myself and why I continued to feel lost and separated from everyone else. And if that included him, then I guess he would make it a point to get to the bottom of it -just like a friend always does.

A few more droplets pelted the sheet as I cleaned them away. I still couldn't face him in wake of the dream that would never be real. That 'she' had never existed in the first place. That all this time I had wasted trying to figure out why she left or where she went was completely a disturbing, endless path. One, in which, would always lead off the painting of the portraits in the halls. It appeared as though those paths never ended and yet, they halted at a certain focal point to where nothing could be assumed except infinity. It made me sad to realize that every step attempted in the right direction would always draw me backwards miles away from my final destination. There was a reason I was unwanted, unloved, by the most important person that should have been part of my life. Where the path ended was where I wanted to see beyond but couldn't.

"It's nothing." I finally say back in a controlled voice. Sometimes he mistook my silence for anger, but it was a diversion from the fact that I would have sounded like a blubbering idiot with a sob story had I actually opened my mouth when he asked the first round of questions.

"Well then," He pulls his arms behind his head, nodding a confident grin in the turn of events. "Mind screaming in about an hour till dawn? I'd like to have an early breakfast before school." A smug smile spread across his lips while his eyes remained closed. What an asshole?

Underneath, I knew my skin burned hot with rage from the remark. I knew it, and he knew it. "That's all you've got to say to me?" As if friendship lasted only two seconds after a nightmare. Somehow, this was worse than being asleep. At least if it was a dream, I could deny his intentions.

"I'm trying to sleep." Moving his mouth in a subtle way, his nose twitches in content with his breathing. That was, until I clamped both my thumb and index finger over his intake of oxygen. "I can breathe through my mouth, you know." He whispered in wake of the event. My other hand slides upwards to smother his words. His fingers enclose around my wrist, twisting and turning away from its target. Struggling with the contempt in suffocating his ignorance, his lips consume mine. Pulling and tugging subsided into an abrasive clasp of affection as I leaned back to catch my breath.

"Benji?"

A break in snoring crosses the mere quiet space. "What Sloane?" My eyes rotated onto his silhouette masked in the dark shadows as he stirred a midst his sleep. Inside, I was scratching my head about the situation that had just occurred. Had it?

"Did you kiss me?" His eyes blast open on the last phrase as I turn in the bed.

"What?" He asks, shaking his head at the notion. "Why would I kiss you?"

Rolling my eyes and anchoring my chin on my fist gave him a flustered look. "I don't know. Why would you?"

"Go back to sleep." Benji orders, but I don't plan to.

"No," I begin by stretching my legs and arms in wake of the moment. "I can't sleep."

"What do you want me to do about it?" His arm moves behind his head for a makeshift pillow as he closes his eyes. A strange roar muddled its sound behind the concrete wall. "Seriously, Lae?" My eyebrows furrow in response to his line. Again, another disgruntled noise complicated the sweet nothing of his dream state. "Alright, man you're high maintenance." Benji grabs his hoodie, pulling it around his shoulders loosely before exiting through the room door.

My eyes open once a set of flames encapsulate the darkened corner of the room. "Behold the Metatron, herald of the Almighty." Flames erupt near the bed frame, allowing various colors to shift into endless shapes of twirling lights. "Behold the Metatron, herald of the Almighty and voice of the one true-" A spool of white foam spurts onto the concealed man within the embers. "Good Lord," Coughing back the extinguished smoke rising against the clean air.

"Benji, stop!" Sitting up, wires tug onto their attachment within my skin. Cringing from the minor searing of pain, it awakened my instincts towards his heroic act.

Pausing to search for any reaction to the attack, he points the nozzle at the perpetrator. "Are you alright?"

"No," The man once engulfed in flames counteracts his concern about me. Benji flinches, pushing the handle of the extinguisher down hard to compensate for his fear through utter shock. Again, the man coughs from the chemicals filtering throughout the once clean air. "No wonder your biggest act of heroism involves someone who was in distress prior to my appearance. And, your weapon of choice being an archaic novelty item of the nineties. Give me that." Snatching the metal canister from his grip, Benji jumps back while searching for another weapon of defense.

"Wait a minute." Leaning forward for the second attempt at freedom, the cords which tangled their web of conflict around my arms pull at a disturbing tug of persistence. "You're the voice?"

"-Of the Almighty. Yes." Collapsing his palms to his thighs, a strain of relief crosses his features. "It took your mother quite a while to accept that notion. Gotta say, I like your courage." Benji holds a scalpel out in front of him in order to protect himself. "Him, not so much." He states brushing off his blazer from the last flame of light. Snapping his fingers together as Michaels immediately drops the weapon in pure horror. With a clink, the blade crashes to the floor.

"How did you do that?" Benji squints down at the rejected item, inspecting its curves.

The ball of flames, formally known as the Metatron, chuckles a sneer answer to his question. "I'm special, my son." His eyes cross over to mine and wink while confronting his illusion sparingly. "But the next time you decide to smother a superior, supernatural being with a canister full of nitrogen, I highly recommend you don't. The consequences can be quite…dire." A swallow trickles down Benji's throat as he lowers his grip on the extinguisher. When it taps the floor, a small amount of foam bursts out at the messenger once more.

"Sorry," He admits with a smug smirk. If he knew him like I did, he's not entirely sorry.

"Wait?" Turning to face me once again due to the disturbance. "Aren't you suppose to have colossal wings and glowing skin?"

After the remark, I can see his chin drop from utter shock. "Is she serious?" Asking back at Benji seemed repetitive and unnecessary. He nods in confirmation once Benji motions subtle gestures about a book, a hat, a staff and finally a necklace in the shape of a cross. "Right," The guy keeps shaking his head up and then down at the acceptance. "Interesting…" Very few words were being exchanged between the two but all the man had to do was look back at Michaels and understand everything he was saying inside himself. When the notion about my mother had crossed lines amongst the conversation, he paused rigid and dismissed his intention of communicating telepathically. "We have a lot of work to do."

"You never answered my question." I press further.

"What? A blazing ball of fire isn't considered glowing anymore?" A set of wings stretch out from underneath his jacket as Benji takes a residence near my side and away from the shrinking space. "I'm the Metatron." His voice booms deeper at the phrase while the tip of his wings tap the top of the ceiling, barely scraping the light above.

"You should have opened with that, dude." My head tilts to stare at my friend. "Much cooler."

"Shall we?" The Metatron snaps his fingers together urgently, sending us into a nearby pub. Everything was lavishly decorated in green and gold. In the background, bagpipes play their serenading rhythm of chorus's amongst the setting. A giant four leaf clover covers the window pane to our side.

* * *

Observing the surrounding tables, it was clearly later in the midnight hours. From the blinds, the darkened skies presented no natural light inside the place. As my eyes flooded with the scenery around me, I see Benji sitting across from me and next to the disturbed, supernatural being whose arms remained crossed while staring down his personal space in which my accomplice unexpectedly invaded. He apologized and slid in next to my side on the booth.

"O' Malley's?" I ask unimpressed.

Grunting at the tone, he protests. "It was either this or Mexican. Thought I would change it up."

"In an Irish pub?"

"Is that disgrace, I hear?" An eyebrow raises to a point?

"We can't drink."

A nudge comes to my side before a couple of glasses clink onto our table. The waiter sets two glasses in front of him, one was empty while the other was full of alcohol. "Speak for yourself." Taking a huge swig, he swishes it around in his mouth for a bit before spitting it into the empty glass.

Looking back to Benji, he began to release his arms from the restraints of his hoodie. Motioning a finger to a fellow waitress down a couple of booths for a glass as well. She sunders over, suddenly a smile spreading across her lips as she approaches our table. Immediately, my arms cross as I look up to see Metatron grinning at my sullen attitude. He spits another drink of alcohol into the reserved glass.

Benji flashes a flirting gesture at her attire. "And what can I get you?"

"Couple shots of Black Velvet." His eyelashes flutter in sequence with the syllables. Tilting his head to the side all the while as the college girl twirled strands of her golden hair, I leaned back into the cushions to demonstrate my conservation.

"Do you have an ID?" My palm conceals my snort while I graciously nodded back at our supernatural guidance. A few moments passed in hesitation before Benji continued his illegal harboring of alcoholic beverages. I kind of wished for a drink on top of all this medication. If I wasn't being routinely checked on every two hours in the hospital so they could take my vitals, then I wouldn't be sleep deprived. So, instead of helping the situation like a normal person would, I subjected myself to opting out in efforts of testing Benji's skill of improvisation. He's got this. At least, I thought he did.

He snorts a laugh at her question. "Of course," Pulling out the card with his picture ID. Of course, I knew he looked eight years older than the number on the card. The weird part was how she brushed off her apron, pushed back a loose burette, and accepted the notification upon response.

As the waitress walked away towards the bar, I unfolded my arms to elbow Benji and then confront the Metatron. "Wow, you have awesome powers." I mock intentionally.

"Actually," He spits again. "That was all him."

Again, I can feel a confiding smirk in his actions. My foot crosses the threshold of his personal space as he howls with the sting of pain. He should have been quick to assume my actions instead of his own. Too late. "What can I say? When you got it, you got it." Two glasses of Black Velvet clink onto the wooden table while our conversation was temporarily delayed due to a small display of interesting behavior.

A wink confirms her flirtatious nature. My eyes roll at the display away from Benji as I confront our captivator once more. "So, why are we here?"

A mumble of words form into place underneath his glass. "Wrong bet."

"What?" My accomplice stutters after his sip.

"You're here because we've lost contact with the Last Scion." His eyes pause on me before continuing. "Her disappearance was deliberate." Slowing down his syllables at the end of the sentence intrigued the better half of the mystery. Benji looks to me as we ponder the current state of affairs. "For God's sake, do I have to spell it out for you?" Concern raises in his voice while I shift my weight in the booth.

"What does that have to do with us?" I ask sarcastically.

Huffing out a restrained breath of air from his lungs, the messenger briefly restores his calmness. "Because you're the one who's destined to make a difference. You're the one who will change the way this world thinks, acts and… believes."

"Right," I accept at first. "Who am I now?"

"The girl in her medical gown." He snaps back. "Why does the title matter to you?" Rhetorical for sure, I still had the balls the answer his questions until Benji stepped in.

"Wrong bet." He mumbles under his fist before crossing his arms.

Taking a deep breath in and then out. "Why does it matter? You're joking, right?" I start, not intending for burst of emotion to over spill onto the table between us. "I grew up my entire life not knowing who I was, or who I should be. And, I have my mother to thank for that. No title and no identity to even begin to know what I was destined for. So, yes it does matter to me."

"I tried to warn him." Benji mutters again, and I snap at him.

"Shut up," His knuckles dig into his scalp after the slam.

"Oh, come off it." The Metatron suffices for imploring another whim. "What's past is past. Whining about it won't change a thing." Clearing his throat from the displaced liquor emanating off his breath, I try to ignore his speech. "You're mad because your mother left you against her better judgment. Don't you think for a moment how it affected your life? The hurt, the pain, the abandonment made you stronger, braver, courageous." My crossed arms fall to my side. His words laced with a truth that had shaped my very existence. "She let the world be your mother. You are who you are because of it. Don't blame her for that." I wanted to choke back the tears rendering me silent, but a projection of sadness was concrete within my eyes.

"So," Out of the corner of my ear, I can hear Benji's vocals boom deeply. How he felt the instant need to take over after the kink in my armor attempted its own repair. "This 'Scion' has been missing for how long?" A fingertip graced the edge of my eyelid to remove the fallout. I just didn't want the Voice of God reporting how sensitive I was about past events.

"We estimate at least three days." He responds quickly.

"Who's we?" I guess I wanted to know as well.

"Mind your own business about who 'they' are." Spitting into the empty glass once more, I remain hesitant of his next response.

"I don't get it." Benji flings his hands forward in union with the talk. "What do you need us for?"

Tapping his fingernails to the counter subsequent to his activity. "I need you," Pointing his nod of confirmation in my direction, he resolves his agreement. "-to find her before the Rebels do. 'They' are not as pleasant as we are." The glass set in front of me twinkled brightly from the crystal in its emptiness.

My eyes shifted back and forth between the two. "Rebels?" An eyebrow raises to question the word.

"They are," He waves over for the waitress to take the empty glass. "-for a better word: damned." A flash of recognition floated across my forehead from the sound of the initial clarification. "Believe it or not, they were actually the ones who did good and kept things in order." His neck cranes into the table further for importance. "Some, dear I say, were insane enough to be my fellow siblings." A smile cracks the solid surface of his dominance over the revelation. "Some, my brothers."

"What happened?" Daring to ask, it seemed relevant.

Leaning back in the booth, his head wanders up at the skylight above us. Speckles of stars glistening in the far away distance to the North as they had every night of my life. Still, looking for meaning up in an abyss of vast glows of dimming energies was such a hopeful waste of time. "A revolution." He states solemnly. "After two angels fell from Heaven while living the remainder of their lives amongst the state of Wisconsin and banished from ever returning to their once perfect paradise, they began a rebellion which ultimately resulted in absolute chaos. The world, as you know it, was on the brink of expulsion."

"Who were the angels, again?" Benji chimes in.

The Metatron rolls his eyes in a vague effort to dismiss his question. "Well, one was good. The other hasn't hindered his intentions on getting revenge for being sent to the Pits. Sometimes, hatred has a way of fueling the fire even without the victim in its prescience."

"Okay," I begin slowly. "Whoever these Rebels are, they're responsible for her disappearance?"

"Correct."

Green beads wrap around Benji's neck as the conversation buries itself deeper into context. "And, whoever this so-called angel is, he has the person your looking for?"

"This is more than just about a person." He leans in. "Existence, in all its form and splendor will seize to be." Seriousness in his tone turned the room cold upon impact.

"Armageddon," Benji confirms. "Cool."

"If there's anything left to get rid of." His attention turns back to me. "Honestly, mention something about the end of the world and suddenly everyone thinks it's a celebration. Mention sex, and there's an applaud towards indecent exposure. I guess, my one question would be whether or not any human being this day and age has modesty, pride, integrity?" A quiet hum fell between us from the opinion.

"Not every human being." I mumble against better judgment.

"Except for those without clothes." Of course, he would make that comment. Unsurprised by the effort, my face still blushed embarrassed.

The Metatron chuckled, un-amused by his response. "Back in the beginning, that was acceptable. Nudity wasn't a humorous pastime like it is now."

"Why yes. No one likes to give away the celebration." A punch comes to my side in a form of consideration.

"So, the world instantly crashes into peril because of this one person?" He could have only shook his head in pure agony after so many interrogations. The good part, which was the best part, meant he would drag the explanation further while me and Benji processed the information. It was tough to reconsider an exit when you were afraid your captor would magically burn into flames and draw more attention than what was needed. Expect the unexpected from the guy in the blazer with such hauntingly, dark eyes -all the more to burn a hole right through your soul.

His fingers cross and overlap each other. "If she dies, yes."

"And, she would happen to have a name?"

"Bethany," A servant with such a bittersweet name?

"She was there when the angels rebelled?"

Pausing for a mere moment, he protests the substitute. "The ones who went completely rogue, one by the name of Loki and the other Bartleby."

"What exactly did they do again?" My elbow smashes into Benji's rib as his inhale exited in a small huff. "Spit on the cross? Piss in the holy water?" At this point, the Messenger fought hard not to comply with his involuntary laugh. Instead, a hand lay a top his forehead as he turned his head left and then right again. "Break into a church, perhaps?" His eyes lifted underneath the veil, signaling truth to the confusion. "Wow, the state of Wisconsin is strict on their laws of damnation." His eyes falter over to mine. "Remind me to never disobey His laws. Wouldn't want to wear a holy cheese hat for the rest of eternity."

A snort comes out from my end. Damn, that kid. I swear he'll keep going until you crack a smile. By this time, the lights in the pub had dimmed considerably to a subtle glow. The four-leaf clover colored in a metallic green hue jingled against the edge of the wooden table as Benji leaned forward to investigate the remaining liquid left in the almost, empty glass. There was a moment of hesitation between the three of us of what to talk about. Every answer revealed itself along the way as our questions withered away one by one. I still couldn't grasp the reality of the proposal.

Finally, I slammed a fist to the counter. "How am I suppose to find someone that doesn't want to be found? Let me guess, I use my super powers to make an alternate universe where my doppelganger follows in the same footsteps of my own only to discover another path, which leads to the world not spontaneously com-busting?"

"Your sense of humor baffles me." Being a know-it-all has its advantages of making him distinctly sarcastic in the rarest of circumstances. But then again, why should I be so quick to judge? "Nobody's asking you to do this alone. God, I hate that I'm even considering the possibility-" Looking over to my right, all I notice is Benji playing with his empty glass only to rest both his palms on his chin and pretend to be the cutest of all species. The Metatron rolled his eyes at the expression. "-to charge you with a holy crusade." Benji's fist thrusts into the air in pure excitement. He must be hammered by now.

Antsy as my fellow companion was, he still managed to convert his slurs into actual words. "That possibility of participating in that crusade would include my expertise, would it now?" His lips curled inward in anticipation while I tried to cover my laughter. He's more entertaining when he's drunk. Why have I not known this?

Reluctantly, the man in the blazer replies. "It would be a rare circumstance as to where your expertise would thrive in absolute conflicts."

"Yes," He belts out of nowhere. I have a feeling if he fist pumps one more time, I'll have to reconsider his former birthplace other than here.

"But, you would be a suitable soldier when it comes to a means of protection." Something struck a cord at the mention of this. Suddenly, I wasn't okay with this circumstance.

"Wait, what?"

Shaking his wrists to loosen the tension of sitting in one spot, a word of advice covets his actions. "You don't expect the Prophets to watch you twenty-four seven, do you?" Again, confusion hit my nerves.

"Who said anything about Prophets? We're talking about a Scion, some rebel angels and Benji-"

"-the ultimate protector. Gotta love that title."

"Whatever," I erase the distraction. "There's more to this than I thought. I'm suppose to save the world with a holy crusade made up of Benji and some random Prophets in an effort to rescue the Last Scion, who by the way is completely off the radar in terms of discovery. And, you expect that somehow, some way, I'll elude the wandering eyes of the Rebels during the process? I don't even know where to begin, where to start!" People surrounding us stopped their conversations to glance over as I yelled out the final form of my grievance. Suffering was never a great pastime of mine. Understanding it was a whole other animal together.

"You know why this one person is so important?" He interjects after the rampage. "Because she made a difference. She sacrificed everything-" His gaze falls upon me once more. My face resembled anger while my arms crossed to form a bridge of solitude and stability. "-to protect the ones she loved. She made a choice, much like I'm asking you to do. It won't be an easy task, but nothing ever is. That's the beauty of it, Leila. You'll never truly appreciate anything until you've given it a chance to be noticed. The world is good, bad-" Staring over at Benji once more, he concludes the remaining factor. "-and stupid."

"Hey," I hear him object.

"Still, you owe to yourself to find the missing piece all these years."

"You mean?"

"If you do this for me, for Her," Pointing up towards the ceiling with his index finger, the Metatron smiles upon recognition. "-you'll have the answers you so desperately desire."

My eyes searched back and forth, attempting to disguise my contained motivation. "Where do I find her?"

"Last she was seen before her disappearance was in a town called Redbank."

A light lit up in my friend's eyes at the sound of the word. "New Jersey?" He laughs, coming around from the booze that first made him loopy. "You're serious? That's my hometown." Another fit of laughter pours from his mouth in craziness. His foot taps the floor in union with the ending chuckle. In an exaggerated British accent, he mocks our fellow adviser. "Ah, I believe my expertise are in order."

The flash of brightened exposure replaced the pub with that of the hospital room. In wake of current events, I face forward, observing the disorienting surroundings. Benji lay next to my side curled on the edge of the mattress, half his body still stuck in the chair while the other rested sleepily on my pillow. At first, I wanted to shake him and tell him how strange everything was. That maybe my mind couldn't comprehend the mental state in which I resided and dealt with it in the means of disturbing dreams. An interpretation didn't really mean much good if I was insane already. "Benji," I whisper lightly, not intending to pressure the situation. He shifts upon the touch. Something was off, though. A glitter of green shone from the moonlit glow diminishing from the windows. A four-leaf clover? The entirety of the conversation jolted me back into the dream, flashing the evidence in front of my eyes once more. How she was missing. How we needed to find where she was being kept from us. "Benji," I whisper a little louder. "We have to go to Redbank, New Jersey." The last sentence provoked him enough to wake him out of his slumber.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Leila has an interesting dream... about being the chosen one to save the world. What she doesn't understand is how or why, just that if she doesn't find the Last Scion, then her luck, along with Benji's four leaf clover necklace, will seize to be. Everything they discover will be exactly where it started in the first place: in Redbank, New Jersey. _


	5. Dogma II 04 Hello-Hooded Thug

**_Hello-Hooded Thug_**

* * *

"Redbank, New Jersey?" His eyes looked as though they were about to bulge out of their own sockets. At first, he went to sit up straight only to cradle a palm to his head in shear pain. On my end, I couldn't help but laugh inside knowing the cause of his immediate suffering. Shall I not laugh and spare Benji the humiliation of black, velvety hangovers. They can be a bitch. "Ah," He exclaims with no other motion than a head thrust back. Along with the drastic measure of comfort, a jolt came from his stomach as he turned over to the side of the bed in a hunched position. A few heaves later, and it was apparent how dark the liquor was that made him intoxicated in the first place.

"You okay?" Don't ask the most obvious thing, I told myself.

Still, Benji was curled over on the edge dry heaving until nothing remained but the bile and acids from his stomach. Distinct in odor, I figured I had hit enough scents for one day or two, especially considering the awful and rancid smell of fecal matter that tended to linger every so often. After a minute or two, all I could muster up was a couple of soothing rants of how we hadn't eaten anything in the pub to make it worse while patting him on the back of his shoulder blade before he spoke. "No, I'm not fine but thanks for asking."

Rolling my eyes should have been an Olympic sport at this point since I did it so well. "Fine," I cross my arms snobbishly from the sentence. He didn't want me to comfort him and that's how he wanted it to be. "We still have to go to New Jersey." One look from him made my eyes advert his glare.

"So now, we have to do everything the big-winged, obnoxious, British-talking, angel wants to do?" Shaking his head said everything. I was being selfish in wanting the unknown answers about my mother, but could you honestly blame someone for something they never had and wanted to discover. "Because, I don't really like the guy a whole lot."

Blinking suited the ignorance to the line. "Well, he's not too fond of you either. You know the whole thing with the fire extinguisher?" Mimicking the action he used earlier to diffuse the flames in the room. "Yeah, not a great first impression."

A snort saluted his hostility towards the supernatural being. "You're going to have to do this one on your own."

"What about your expertise?" I mock using the exaggerated British accent.

"What? Being a fireman?" Jokingly, I begin to show my expression as serious. "I'm nothing special, Lae. I'm just a kid whose parents decided they couldn't raise him properly and gave their son up for adoption. I've only ever known about my biological father because they said he got killed in a car accident five months after I was born." His head hung lower, much lower than I had ever seen before. I knew he was adopted but I didn't know about his biological parents. That was the one piece of personal information that he would never share with anyone, not even God. "I can't go back home…" Protesting with all his heart, I sat indifferent to the notion. "…because there isn't much left for me there."

"That's the place the Last Scion went missing." I start. My voice shook underneath the words, not intending to become upset with the reoccurring flashes of the previous dreams. "I don't know." Fingers ruffle through my hair in distress as I covered my face and bent over my knees in comfort. "Maybe, maybe if I go there, I can find out what really happened to my mother. Maybe, this Scion, knows something that we don't." Coming up from the caged innocence, I catch Benji staring back at me with wide eyes full of sorrow. "I can, at least, find out whether she's alive or not."

"I know how much this means to you, but-"

"-but you're not gonna help me." A teardrop fell down one cheek and onto my chin.

"I want to but I just, can't."

My head lingers near the window when the sun started to shine. Light was beginning to fill the room all at once through the open shades. "What's gonna happen in the morning, Benji?" As saddened as I was to have trusted in his absolute loyalty, it killed me to think he wouldn't support the one decision, the one mission, I had to follow. Had all those years been such fantasy between the two of us. That friendship really went as far as the commitment. I expected him to lead while I followed behind him carefully. This wasn't the case at all. "What's gonna happen to us?"

"We're gonna go our separate ways." And, hopefully, one day, we'll meet again?

"What if-"

"-what if what?"

"What if this is it?" I was scared. It was a big city, and we were just so small.

Ringing his hands together, pondering the question over and over, his jaw clenched at the conclusion. "This isn't the end. If it was the end, then there would be a cause for a celebration." Patting my knee, his face smiles in union with mine. That morning was one of the hardest for me to express happiness in the form of a unique smile. Yet, I pulled it off without so much as false intention. To me, it was genuine and true. To me, it was for him, for a friend.

We sat there until the sunlight touched our feet. When it did, we glanced back at each other in acknowledgment. Benji nodded in approval of his acceptance. I pat his knee before kicking off of the bed. Turning around the corner, there were a couple of registered nurses heading down the vast hallway. We fade back into the room again. The shadows underneath the crack in the door pass undisturbed as we slide away unnoticed. His fingers wrap around mine as we raced down the flight of stairs leading to the front desk. The secretary manning the area was busy jotting down a message while we took another pause.

"Ten more feet, and we're home free." He said these words without difficulty. I was nervous and afraid. Ten more feet until we would separate. It didn't feel right or even logical that we could follow different routes. His tone rang vibrantly through my ears like a bell on a never-ending chime, which grew louder and louder as we waited. "What's wrong?" Benji's eyes watched where mine followed. "Damn, cops."

The two gentlemen crossed the threshold, and the room went cold. I shivered at first before tapping Benji on the shoulder from the temperature drop. He acted confused as though he didn't understand before motioning a finger for me to keep quiet. My eyes rolled up instantly at his order.

"We're looking for a patient by the name of Leila Sloane." The first officer inquired.

The woman looked up from her glasses before removing them from her face. "The doctor's not in yet. Due to patient confidentiality, I can't release any information."

"We have a warrant for her arrest." His partner confirmed, holding up a piece of paper. The color within his eyes shifted to one I couldn't recognize. "Is that enough information?"

"Until she's released, she's a free citizen of the state." Have to give her props for standing her ground. Most police are intimidating as hell, but they put on this front of toughness. Most of them would rather fight a peaceful battle without guns and without bloodshed. Unfortunately, most battles don't condone those set of rules. "Now, if you would like to wait for the doctor to arrive. You're more than welcome to take a seat." The phone rings in midst of her standoff. The cops pause for a second in disbelief before heading towards the rows of seats near the waiting area. "No, he's not in yet." She answers while I confront Benji.

"Oh my god," I about shriek out in his face before he smothers it with his hand. "I have a warrant." He shushes me again as he looks to see if anyone was observing us. "You're suppose to be the one with the warrant." Smacking him in the shoulder nonstop conveyed my frustration. "We're never gonna make it out of here." My palms cover my face in reluctance.

"Well, we're not heading out in that direction." He jokes, but my expression was not responding well to his humor. I felt like we'd come all this way for nothing. "Just, calm down." Stating this made me more frantic in the effort of escape. "We just have to find another way out, another exit." Right. Stay focused. Over and over again, I refused to tell myself these things. It was better for Benji to remind me every three seconds. "Stay focused. We'll make it out of here." Hopefully, we would make it out free.

* * *

"Doctor," The two officers seated in the corner, one flipping through a fashion magazine while the other a gossip enquirer, rose to their feet subsequently. "We have some guests waiting for your arrival." His head nods in the direction of the badges that gleamed in the lighting. By now, my grip on Benji's forearm was like a vice.

"Ow," He states while I shrug unconventionally.

"Sorry," I say. "I can't help it." At least, I couldn't help the fact that we were trapped between the desk and front door. We were so close I could taste the fresh air. What air came from the revolving door teased my senses towards breathing deeper.

Benji waves his hand down to silence my afterthoughts as we watched the doctor turn around to greet the men. "What can I help you with, officers?" The first officer whose eyes seemed to change hues every so often began the conversation first. Still, I began to think the pressure was getting to my nerves. Either that, or I was beginning to hallucinate even further.

"One of your patients has a warrant for her arrest." He speaks firmly, but glances into the corner to which Benji and I had taken refuge. I urge him to move a step back with me as his gaze sticks a second longer. He couldn't see through walls, could he? No, nothing logical about that explanation makes any sense.

The clipboard the secretary handed the doctor remained in his hands as he shifted the weight of the papers. He was definitely making a stance saying that he had heard everything just that he would answer when he sought suitable. Tough demeanor, but I like his perseverance. "I have many patients. Which her would you be referring to?" He asks, and Benji catches his snort while I attempt to cover his mouth as well. We couldn't afford to give away our concealment now.

"A patient by the name of Leila Sloane." Nodding based on his urgency, the doctor confirms the name. A familiar ding sounds from around the corner as the elevator opens. Tapping Benji on the shoulder and motioning to the door, he follows.

"Right this way, then." Pattering of footsteps connect with the tiled floor around the corner as the door shuts routinely. We were safe. For now, we were.

"Who were those cops?" My hands fly away from my sides as we had little space to move. "Why would I have a warrant? Don't you at least have to commit a crime before they send you to juvie?" Finally, my palms fell to my forehead in worry. Benji stood in front of me looking around at the walls.

"I don't know, Lae." He starts. "It doesn't look good."

"I know that!" Shushing me became his favorite pastime. "And, stop that!" I yell back at him.

"We have to stay calm, remember? Once those doors open, we find the next elevator down to the main lobby and we're home free." Biting his lower lip from anticipation did nothing to relieve me of this plan. First plan was to leave the premises without so much as two police officers stopping our advance. Second plan was much like the first except it was suppose to be different? Like, we don't get handcuffed, go to jail, and end up worrying about when to drop the soap? Yeah, because everything always goes as planned. I really felt the need to pull all of my hair out from the stress at this given point in time. Too bad, I grew a liking to its natural length. AHHH!

"Why are they even here?" I had to ask because that's what stupid people do.

"Like I know?" Not helping, partner. "Maybe there's something you forgot to tell me." Insinuating something as nothing Benji ever treaded lightly on. "Something big, something important." My eyebrows furrowed in response to his gimmick of slow, drawn-out phrases. His wrist twirls over and over at the words. "Something ILLEGAL?" A half pouty-face mixed with an innocent, accidental problem-child flitters across his features making me want to explode.

"That's what you're getting at?!" He starts the shush, but I interrupt. "Don't even, Michaels." I pace back and then forth as the pointer nears the floor we were suppose to get off of. "You think…that I?" My hand gets an inch away from his face as he flinches his eyes shut from the reaction. It molds into a fist and points a finger back into his chest. "That's a low blow."

"Come on," He coos. "What was it? Did you get mixed in with a drug lord?"

My glare was enough to stop his wild theories. I was crazy, just never that crazy. "Something about that cop is off. Did you see his eyes?"

"Yes," He flutters his eyelashes for good measure. "They were extremely enchanting." I smack him. "And sexy the way they kept changing color." Mid-air, my wrist fails as I agree with the observation.

"Right!"

"I was joking about the sexy part."

"No, they kept changing color." Shaking his shoulder to verify the event, he stands confused. "It wasn't a natural color and when they walked in, the room went cold. Don't you think that's a little weird?" Seconds pass before I fully could read any expression on my friend's smitten face.

"That you have sexy eyes?" He retorts.

"Ugh!" The lights within the elevator flicker off and then on again as we braced ourselves on the railing within the confined space. "Ever since the Metatron, I feel like I'm on drugs."

"You were."

Flashing a gesture towards the opening doors, I proclaim the worst. "Which is why I'm afraid they haven't worn off yet."

* * *

Holding a hand in front of me while he checked the entry to floor already made me anxious. We get caught, and that's it. We're done. I won't see the light of day, and Benji will have been an accomplice to it. Noticing the tuffs of his hair muffled from the starched pillow case caused me to giggle without warning.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Good. Let's go." Tugging on my arm sufficed his eagerness.

Down the hallway, the doctor from downstairs had just entered the soon-to-be realized, empty room. We stopped in our tracks, frozen. The elevator with the upside down arrow blinked to confirm occupancy. The familiar cold from the lobby iced the halls as I pulled Benji into another patient room. A loud ringing concluded our hiding as I locked my palms to my ears once more.

The ringing noise faded once we became concealed again. "Close." Michaels admits, looking back into the room. "How did you know the room was empty?" Observing the surrounding area, I came upon the same conclusion. Unwillingly, I started to convince myself it was a coincidence that our moment of distress happened in wake of the constant ringing. Except, this time it didn't render me unconscious.

"Lucky guess." I jingle the metallic, green clovers around his neck. His eyes roll up with the notion of symbolic references.

"Doctor," A nurse stops him along his way. 'We need you on the surgical unit." Raising a hand in response, he turns.

"I have two men here for Ms. Sloane. Tell them, given her condition, any restraint until her release from this facility is un-warranted." He motions his wrist in a circle and points out the particular restraint. "My orders if they like it or not."

"Yes, doctor."

The door to the elevator dings open after the doctor rounds a corner. The two officers from before make their way towards the unknown, vacant room, which had been my cell for the last fourteen hours. Noticing how clean smelling most of the rooms were, I sneeze. Benji turns to look back at me in distracted 'really' look on his face. I shrug instantly, cursing the bleach odor wafting through the vents. Entering the doorway, the two men begin to shuffle items in the room.

"Let's go now." Benji states, tapping my shoulder upon response to the frozen fear emanating from my muscles. I was never afraid of anything except the unknown. I was one to want answers to the questions very few people had the courage to ask. The minute the dial above the elevator door reached our floor, those answers would be left in that vacant room. I had come to a stalemate with him, and he knew I was stalling. "What?" He tugs a little harder on my arm to pull me out the door. A thud comes from the side of the wall. Something heavy, something metal banged against the surface, causing a flitter of loose drywall to crumble onto the floor. "Com'n."

His final tug convinces me to move forward reluctantly. At the last second, his stance envelopes from the sliding doors as I twist backwards, heading towards the room. Benji's shocked facial expression was the last memory replaying through my mind as I inched closer to my answers.

A loud crash sounds from a metal pan hitting the floor as I flipped back around the gap between the doorway and the hallway. Out of sight and out of mind would have been the best cover-up for this particular scenario. I should have just gone with Benji, what the hell was I thinking?! Why am I arguing with myself over a recent past event that occurred none two seconds ago. Focus. I have to focus. "She was here." A grunt comes from one of them.

"Yeah, well she isn't anymore." The second officer explains, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Looks like we're too late."

"No," His eyes flared again with a different hue as he welcomed his denial against the reciprocation. "You smell that?" My eyes squeezed shut complacently after his question. Please, don't see me. Please don't see me. The tone of pleading rang throughout my ears.

"Smell what?"

"Lavender roses," He draws out intentionally. His partner squints in confusion of the words. "Her scent still takes up occupancy in this room." A set of fingers wrap around my mouth as I about scream from surprise. I don't turn and I don't move to look at my captor. "Which means," His hand wavers closer together in its rotation to signify the intensity of the conviction. "-She can't be far behind." Emphasizing the last word, his stance becomes more mobile.

A sharp pain consumes my thought process while I maintain my breath through the shock. "He won't be excited about this."

"Considering our agreement with him, it safe to say that failure is not an option to have to make." Turning to face his partner in midst of the comprehension. "I'd rather have the apocalypse than utter damnation, just because we couldn't catch a teenage girl and her hello-hooded thug. Hear me?" A fist clenches amongst his companion's collar before releasing its restraints.

"Shouldn't we be worried about the hello-hooded thug?" Asking seemed to be the wrong choice on his part.

Pausing for a thought, the leading officer connects the missing dots. "Strange he's not lingering around the facility, isn't it?" Eyes widen upon response to his statement. Patting his partner on the back, they separate from the room as I get pulled into the adjacent medical area. "Let's find our friends, shall we?"

As fast as my heart began racing from that moment, I couldn't contend with the stranger who pushed me away from the information. For once, a surprise replaced my anger. "Who are you?" An eyebrow rises to confront the man in the maroon-colored shirt. He begins to stare all-knowingly with a sad expression laced within his lips. Pouting doesn't help his case at all. "No, I don't." Stomping my foot down on the floor caused a break in the communication. Again, he nods expectantly. "We've never met." His chin tilts up and down in a conclusive manner. "Look, we could do this all day, but I can't afford to leave Michaels out to dry. I have to find him and get the hell out of here." I turn, but he pulls me inwards, smashing my lips against his. That's when the ringing sensation flooded back into my memory. The one were Josh inhabited my distant memories before he passed on in the hospital. How the doctors thought I was insane with trauma-related, psychotic episodes brought on by certain triggers.

Pushing him backwards and away from my body, I blushed intently. "Words tend to waste the meaning of what I can show you." Certainly, that was true coming from his faintly, glowing posture. Maybe, the fluorescent lights really made him look good in this circumstance. Either that, or I had become smitten with envy over a power I hadn't come to grips with just yet.

"Words are nice, trust me." I start, finding the urge to run hard when my legs refused to move. "So, the ringing in my head-" I motion a hand in his direction, signaling the onslaught of irrational theories. "-that was you?"

He smiles with a slight smirk. "Ringing was only part of our connection." My head shakes back and forth on his notion of further relations. "That feeling when you're completely alone and everything replaces your hope with fear-"

"-That's you too?"

"No," Spitting out the truth became a habit of his. "That's the Rebels. They use the energy from certain things to increase their strength. Humans are the strongest, but they can't feed off their energy until they've given up all hope."

"When Josh died." We walked down the stairwell to the next floor, carefully watching the oncoming disturbance of a few nurses rushing to a new ward where they were desperately needed. "-were you-"

"Josh," A silence fell between us at the mention of his name. "Josh was a good kid, bright future."

"Bright future?"

His eyes studied mine until they continued with the sentence. "He did what he was expected to do."

"Die?" I stress back.

"Yes," He says calmly. "He knew what his future would hold."

"So, why didn't he live?"

"Some things were more important at the time." The man avoids my gaze directly and continues to usher me down the flight of stairs until we reached the main floor. "Time is of the essence. We need you off their radar." The door flings open to reveal the two officers cornering a hooded figure at the entrance. My fingers wrap around the frame while my other hand braces itself on the man's shoulder.

* * *

**_A/N: _**_The Rebels are closing in on their target, but they don't suspect a flaw in their plans. It's obvious that a hello-hooded thug can easily float off their radar without being detected as long as their person of interest doesn't fall into the wrong hands. _


	6. Dogma II 05 All of this Existence

_**All of this Existence**_

* * *

The Sun shone through the glass window, twinkling its rays of sunshine across my face. I was old enough to sit up by myself without falling over. The colors mixing through the prism floated onto the vacant, and bare, walls. Another shade of shadows taunted my attention near the door. Crawling forward, I found the noise resonating through the wooden frame.

"They will find her, Sarah." A muffled voice confronts my caretaker. She seemed nervous, if not worried, about the situation. "It's only a matter of time."

"What else can we do? Mask her with the scent of sin?" Proposing such a method disturbed her thoughts. A light goes off on Sarah's end as she allows the idea to fester. "Of course, what could be stronger?"

"Death," she sighs.

"Why didn't I think of that?"

A smug remark disposes her questioning. "You did. I just decided to use this opportunity to convince you of the decision."

"I see she's a good influence on you." A British accent concludes her speech. "Have we agreed upon a solution yet?"

"Are they close?"

"Yes," He sums up her suspicions. "-and they're getting closer every minute, every second, we waste trying to come to a conclusion." A lone grumble sounds from his mouth before Sarah contends his speculation.

Nodding together in union, they impose the plan upon the Metatron, who struggles to prepare for the decision being confirmed. "Hide her amongst sin." Their voices coincide with one another until a loud crash blows the glass aside from me. Immediately, I begin to cry, afraid of the cause of breakage.

A dark-haired man with a torn, grey shirt encased in a hooded trench coat strides into the room. The sparkling pieces of glass reflecting off his glowing stature. The doors locked as an invisible force field surrounded the cracks in the house's structure. All light diminished in one swift wave of his hand as he made his way toward me.

A deafening noise rang amongst his prescience, offering a new pain to my ears. He kneels down to my side, intently taking mental notes about my first impression. How afraid, how threatened I felt and how weak I was at such an age where I could hardly defend myself, let alone others. The look intensified into a slight sneer, motioning a confidence to which I instantly silenced my crying. "There, there little warrior." His thumb presses amongst my forehead. Cool to the touch, it changed my level of knowledge the second its impact braced my skin. Within a blink, I understood everything he wanted me to know. "We have a lot in common, starting with your mother." Sliding his trench coat off his shoulders seemed to make an interesting statement. As cold as his touch was, the heat within the room gradually rose. "She will, without any doubt, ask for Death to pardon your losses. Convincingly, he will accept to partake in such an agreement but not without constitutions of his own."

Stepping down from the staircase, his pause suits his demeanor. "Knowing my brother, and I know him well, he certainly will not spend the rest of his eternity waiting for his career to take flight. He will fight for what he believes is rightfully his. So, don't let him fool you with sensitivity. He's part my blood and he will not fight sitting down." The metal plate underneath his grey shirt shimmered amongst his admitted glow in the darkness. "Fortunate for you, I make amends with my enemies. Your future is bright, promising. It's one I have complete faith in. When the opportunity comes, and it will-" He spins around, placing his palms together in prayer. "-you will make a choice the world cannot. And, your answer will be one that causes a cataclysmic endeavor amongst many nations." He pauses in front of me again, bowing down on one knee. "Make the right decision, and life will be freed from this endless purgatory. The choice is yours." Turning to leave the room, he stops searching for his trench coat amidst the conversation. "When the time comes for you to fully understand what I have proclaimed, you'll be on the path for your fate." A wink conveys his substitute for modesty as he vanishes half-way through the room. The refracted light that was refrained from the window clears its brightness throughout the space.

The coldness on my forehead where the man had pressed his thumb jolts me back into the turn of events. The man to my side remained calm and collected without worry while my insides felt like turning out. My stomach instantly folded itself into knots which tried to unravel themselves from their confinement. All the more controlled my breathing became did his pressure intensify on my shoulder blade.

A squeeze came to my side again as I acknowledged his features. Bright blue, sea-worthy eyes encased in a crystallized formula of persuasion. Hair blond like that of a morning sunrise. It was near impossible to see past his façade of human qualities when his skin was the most magnificent feature of all. Because it glowed exactly like the man in my memory. The bronze tone overcompensating for more than just a unique color but a substance as well.

He clears his throat. "You okay?"

"Wh-what?" My head shakes from left to right in embarrassment. "Yeah, of course."

"Good," His head revolves back to the split between us and the exit. "Looks like they've captured a civilian. Bad luck for him, good for us."

My eyebrow furrowed at his line of ignorance. A civilian? Benji was as much of a fighter as me growing up. Along with his family issues, I can assure you a simple dining experience was never in the cards for either one of us. But hey, one can dream can't they? "He's my friend." Immediately, my eyes tear back at the man who wanted to use him as a distraction. "How lucky for us."

"How unfortunate." He states, observing the situation from another perspective. "That changes things a bit."

"Yeah, it does."

"Am I sensing some hostility on your part?" Asking was wrong on his part. "Because we can solve this problem with a simple agreement." His head tilts to the side as he smiles a huge smirk.

"And what's that?"

The gleam of a metal revolver encases his fingers while I take a step behind myself. A hand goes up to relinquish my timid behavior. My eyes felt like giant saucers as he pointed the gun in my direction and then out towards the small crack where my soon to be ex, best friend was cornered by the Rebels. "Follow me, follow my orders, and you live." The weapon disguises its intent by turning sideways to face me.

"And if I don't?" My face contorts to one of angered regret.

"I think you understand the rest." Checking the bullet chamber for the rounds, he shoves the cartridge back into the handle of the gun. "Whether or not you feel the need to trust me is whether or not you trust yourself enough to." Pulling back the shaft to load the bullet, it became clear of his intentions. "I can't instill you with trust. It's something your born with and something you choose to understand." His foot lifts off the step from the staircase as he pivots around to fire the first round. My knees falter to the floor in reaction to the blow through the hole in the door.

Run, Leila, Run. The man's voice resonates telepathically back to me. My eyes widen in fear as another round permeates through the wooden door. Bullet holes mark the restrained light fractured from the glass doors amongst the blows. Of course, my initial reaction was to scream outwardly with my arm flailing in discourse with his instructions. Predominantly, it was strictly the order that my brain didn't care to respond to. How fortunate I was to have an angel with a shotgun, or at least, a gun in general.

"Run," He instructs, motioning for me to move forward where the shots rained on the other end. His hair flipped back at me before he gave me a glare worth a thousand stares. I would certainly not be intimidated.

"What?" I yell back with a sincere smirk. "I can't hear you past the gunshots?!" Mocking should have been one of my lifelong professions. Either that, or I should have practiced more time perfecting my passion for sarcasm.

The round of bullets fades from the other end as he reloads his gun to shoot. "Either you go get your insane friend, or we ditch the cause and leave him here." Whispering the order intently, he hands an empty cartridge over as I jump at the loud bang centering around the lobby.

Benji! I scream inside my head while the glowing guardian surfaces a flinching motion from the thought. The door opens while I walk towards the center of the room, my arms up in surrender. Both officers lowered their weapons as I silenced the deafened room. Within the vicinity, I noticed the receptionist at the front desk was huddled underneath her swiveling chair, covered in loose papers and manila folders which flew across her almost barren desktop. Her shaking conveyed more than what my body tried to contain as my captives eyes remained upon me the entire time. Benji groaned at the tug of his scalp while the second officer threw his body between us.

"You have your mother's eyes." The first officer comments. A sneer played across his features. "It's unfortunate their light doesn't shine through with a hopeful gaze." Underneath his broadened stature, I was able to distinguish a single tattoo resting beneath his jaw line, a swivel of a pointed arrow facing up towards his right ear.

"How do you know my mother?" Questioning seemed to quake the vocals responsible for the courage boiling beneath my skin.

His teeth bare a smug smile while his head rolls back at his partner. "She's tough to ignore-" A leg extends forward like a rope entangling the Captor as Benji twists to disarm his weapon. The twirling reflected upon the second officer as he braced his defense method against my friend. Their arms lock in union with the confrontation.

"You're a worthy advocate, brother." The second officer spouts, tossing streams of red onto the crisp, white floor. "Strength is your best weapon against us."

"Please," Ben mutters back at the man as their eyes locked together in a seething anger. "Ever heard of martial arts?" He poses a significant stance in comparison to his opponent. The hues in the man's eyes changed once more with a subtle glitch of persistence. "I'm your worst enemy." A low blow comes from the bottom of his knee as the Rebel kicks to throw his balance off. Mid-flip, Ben recovers from the blast and counter acts by locking his arms and twisting the pressure around his enemy's neck, letting the intention speak volumes against his previous actions.

The first officer takes a step towards me slowly, placing his palms in the air for peace. My face squinted back with a hostel gaze. "I don't trust you." I state clearly, amidst his response from before.

"We don't expect trust from Destroyers. You're an abomination from the written word of God." My head shakes in confusion at the line. What was he talking about? "The truth is found only at the crossroads of religion and faith. He to whom this right lies becomes the light which sees God. Should you covet and discover most truths to remain false, may your destiny withdraw its former glory of acceptance from any past present over the future."

"I don't understand." His thumb presses against my forehead after the speech. The icy coolness from before replaced the former heat exuberating from my skin. The part of me that let me know I was alive, that I was still breathing in life and all its splendor and glory. "Life," I mumble as Ben wavers his guard against the man's partner. My Captor's nod confirmed my suspicion about the notion. They both turn towards each other to acknowledge their mission. A gunshot explodes into the man's chest while his eyes solidified the one color I remembered from the past memory. The coolness, the prophecy, stated in a rhyme for me to decode. My Guardian from before wasted no time in offering many wounds amongst them. "I have to find her, the Last Scion. How do I do that?"

He turns, snapping his fingers from release of his partner. Instantly, Ben abides in a amused state of calmness from the action. Like, he had been ordered to and expected to subside from his grip amongst their capture. "When the times comes, the light will show you the truth."

"What truth?!" A burst of hot flames incinerate the ashes floating in mid-air as they vanished from view.

* * *

An alarm sounds from the smoke rising to the ceiling. The sprinklers explode, expanding multitudes of water across the tiled floor. Ben runs towards me, whipping my frame away from the shooter. Too bad I fell flat on my butt from the flinging grip. The two encircle around each other, Ben clenching his jaw at the defensive stance as my Guardian relinquished his weapon of choice.

"Ben, stop!" I yell louder above the alarms. "He's with us."

"How do you know?!" He retreats back to his braced stance, facing the glowing stature amongst the raining droplets soaking into his clothes. "We can't trust him!"

"Then, trust me!"

His fists clench down into balls before releasing their tension. "We have to get out of here before we draw any more attention to ourselves." My Guardian states adamantly.

"I think we skipped the attention and went straight to chaos." I remark, feeling the full force of my embarrassment hit its max. Could it have been possible for someone's cheeks to light a match purely by blushing? At this point, setting anything on fire was possible. Everything my foster father had taught me about these supernatural creatures had been half the truth. The main reason I felt befuddled was because of the two mystical beings cross-matched with one another in the center of the room.

A shuffle sounded near the front desk as the receptionist revealed herself from the hidden sanctuary behind the misguided bullets and unnatural firearms of destruction. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets in confused wonder. The tips of her frayed hair sizzled in wake of the explosive event. She slowly turns her head in our direction after observing her closest surroundings.

"Gun backfired." Benji states after a couple of glances between the two of them. A pointed finger helped encapsulate her suspicious attitude.

Her reaction was bittersweet as she slid a hand over to the ringing telephone. She presses one of the glowing buttons in correspondence to the noise, answering the call.

"Yes," A horrified tone resounds over the line as the Guardian motions for us to exit the premises. Somehow, I got caught up in listening to the ending phrase to the conversation. Call me crazy, but it's not every day you get to witness an innocent bystander correctly mutter these exact words. "What caused the explosion?" A pause mediates her response as both my arms become tugged towards the front entrance. "Apparently, a gun backfired."

A wink comes from my fellow partner as we dragged ourselves into the bare openess of the city streets. Impossible to believe fourteen hours ago, I had a semi-normal life and a semi-normal family. Guess you can only throw a dart so many times and hit a bulls-eye once in a great while. Everything's just crazy, and possibly insane for a better half of ordinary as it transitions into deliria.

"We need transportation." The Guardian confirms once a car horn sounds away form the curb. Great idea except for one flaw in that plan.

"I'm broke. The only cash I have is on an emergency card-" A glare morphs into a sinister snort to my side from Benji. "-It's for emergencies." I finish the sentence about smacking my forehead from the contribution. I should have just stopped after the words: I'm broke.

Awful chance that my short-term memory loss serves as a strong reminder from the last time I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Fortunate for Benji, I have severe word vomit in stressful situations, which one symptom included memory loss. Awful coincidence, huh?

"You mean the emergency card from your ex-foster family- the Carsons?" Benji prompts further, offering a crossed-arm, raised-eyebrow pose to suit his demeanor.

"Don't give me that look." I mimic his pose.

The Guardian watching on the sidelines glances between the two of us. "Trust me, that look isn't the worst." Laughter consumed his next response.

"Fine," I appease to the controversial matter of currency. "But when we get to Redbank, dinner's on you." Rolling his eyes was always a classic trademark of Benjamin Michaels.

"Scary to think my whole life I've never took the opportunity to admire the artwork down here." The subway presented new characters of interest but also new characters in general.

"Who were those guys, again?" Asking questions seemed to create more problems than solutions for me. Eh, I'll take the risk in being curious enough to express what I wasn't intelligent on, subject-wise, of course. This was more than just an important subject matter.

"Rebels," My Guardian confirms firmly once again.

"Yeah, I know Rebels but exactly who were they?"

He pauses, taking a release of forced air form his lungs. His agitation grew every second we remained still in one spot for long. Anxious would have been a better explanation, but he hardly expressed any emotion through his tone of voice. Not like before when he appeared to confront certain scenarios with such zealous pride and adequate timing. Something changed inside of him, but what? Benji hopped around the cement posts guarding the train tracks to the station. Flashing back to the previous scene in the lobby when his bullets penetrated the chest of the first officer after he graced my forehead with the prophecy. The message which I deemed myself to understand when destiny shined upon its divine time. Maybe, I would discover the reality to which my mother existed in this to believe. The reality to which my mother existed in this time and space. She had to exist once and if it was somewhere in the past, then that's exactly where I'd have to find her again.

"Rebels aren't too congenial with their manners. " Snapping at Ben to stop harassing the passersby with change for food, I found myself on the opposite side of the bench. "I wouldn't make myself fond of their structured anarchy underneath all this Catholic dogma."

"That's what they call it these days?" Ben mocks with a huff as he took a seat down next to me. "That's a word for the ancient books people put so much stock into." I nudge his arm at the statement as my Guardian leans back and then forward in his hunched position, collapsing his palms together. In union while staring up at the news reel. Repeating the live event at the hospital. "Honestly, if you were going to demolish a state of consecutive laws to possibly conjure up to proceed the Apocalypse-" A hand wavers to his side to silence his rant.

"Grant Hicks, reporting live at St. Luke's-Roosevelt hospital where a bomb of chaos has erupted amongst its residential patients." His fingers flutter back to his ear piece as the microphone remained hesitant in his grip, waiting for its order of voice to the news cast. "I'm getting word of the culprits responsible for the attack and possible endangering of defenselessness lives. Moments after the explosion occurred, it was made clear that the instigators fled the scene, outraging a poor receptionist caught between their violent tirade of hopeful destruction and heartbreaking sadness. That is what has swept the streets of these quiet neighborhoods so far this morning-"

My eyes lifted to the clinging fluorescent lights in pure disgust at this new cast. "Violent tirade, my ass."

"Judging by the wedding ring on his finger, somebody believes his lies." I hear Michael's remark. "Can't imagine how she sorts the files in that relationship."

"Easy," I begin. "She's too busy sorting through mine to keep track of her own."

* * *

"Stop," I smack him twice before he catches on. "It's not funny anymore."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not." My vocals mimic his in mocking.

"Seriously, if I found out my case worker was sleeping with that abomination of a human being, I'd probably take this loaded gun-" Motioning to the gun underneath my Guardian's coat, he continues. "-and shoot myself."

"Harsh, pal." He comments back, switching the holster where the gun rested onto the other side of his hip, far way from Benji's sticky fingers and rebellious ways of proving factual points. "Harsh."

"C'mon, man." An arm extends out to reach for the concealed weapon while he thrusts the conversation into an infinite number of outcomes. "What if we were followed and the first person to get a shot in happens to be that dark-haired prick with the smug grin." Next to my side, I notice the man in the maroon-colored shirt clench his jaw menacingly at the mention of the man. "You're just gonna let him take us down like that?" Benji's fingers transform into the shape of a gun as he takes an aim at an invisible force. " I could have taken him down in a heartbeat if my hand weren't full from kicking his partner's ass and wiping the floor with his pathetic attempt at karate." Changing the gun into a karate chop, he signals a threatening, air-born division between the pole and his palm.

"No, you couldn't defeat him."

"Why not?" Courageously, my friend had to question his logic.

"Because he's immortal and-"

"-only another immortal can kill an immortal."

"Correct."

"I don't get it. Are all Rebels immortal?" Apparently, it was now my turn to interrogate the matter.

"Just him." Even the tone of word emphasized within the phrase raised a certain amount of hostility in him.

"You knew him, didn't you?" He nods to confirm my suspicion. "I knew it. I think I've met him before too. I just don't know where." An interesting enigma contributed to the conundrum of intrigue between what I already knew versus what I tried to decode.

The train was on tack for Redbank. Benji attempted to keep his eyes open for the first twenty minutes into the ride before he gave way into unconscious. The sway of motion exerted by the inertia cause me to teeter back and forth from sleepiness.

Noticing the medical band still laced around my wrist, my sole Guardian rips its contents off in one swift clutch. "Best no one know your previous whereabouts." It was his personality through the appearance of manageable prospects as an immaculate, seamless, outline of a human being. It would seem as though the outline had been traced through centuries of knowledgeable influences. One feature, of which I refrained from laughing at, happened to be his distinct, and utter restlessness.

I grab his hand in an effort to discourage his involuntary twitch. He smirks back in genuine recognition. Benji snores loudly on the other side of me, making a hint of pure humor to rightfully claim itself against my hesitant lips. It would take multiple life times before I was fully ready to depart from our relationship this soon in advance. It surprised me even further as I watched the mundane scenery transition into a magnificent greenery subsidiary from its original setting.

"Promising," I here my Guardian state as I admired the sleeping pattern of my partner. In the far reaches of the back of my mind, the one notable trait that refurbished its unique potential above the rest teetered within the corners of far-fetched expectations. I, thus, condoned the line with an eye rolling of epic proportions.

He eyed me further, distinguishing the notion of ignorance based upon the short forthcoming of undeniable occurrences happening outside of our control. "I'm glad he's still here." And, if promising meant all of those in just one phrase, one word, then it sure felt like its existence suited everything up until this point where all occurrences happened for such reasons amidst our control, which continued to correspond with our likeness to exist in the same together. So, in a promising for such a short phrase, then length surrounding time, in which the specific acknowledgment occurred, happened within our reach and within our control. And, that sufficed all meaning for my head to rest upon his shoulder, to rest upon the lone word for all of this existence.

"He has another purpose to fulfill."

"What are you talking about?" I yawn, giving into the fatigue that plagued my memory cells. The blurriness of the dream state overtook its welcoming.

Turning to look back at the man she continued to confront, Sarah motions on the defensive against him. "You can't keep her safe forever." He reappears amongst my caretaker, offering solidity against the situation. Somehow, some way, he would convince her of these words. "They will find her and even if they don't kill her, I can assure you she will be sacrificed for their greater good. You cannot protect her."

"Look at yourself!" Sarah bellows back at him in reluctance of his newfound advice. "You can't even begin to protect yourself. You're so worried about this child! You should be worried about yourself, about if they'll find you. If Bartleby finds you-." Pausing to catch her change in heart at the name. It appeared she had suffered a great deal herself from the being that chased her vocals away in an instant. "He's the means to an end. You know once he realizes your side of loyalty is compromised, you'll be the one sacrificed!"

His eyes read sincere in a way she could never understand. For, it seemed as though his loyalty had already been affirmed within the Allies eyes. He had chosen his placement amongst this particular battle and whatever impending war could arise from it. They would not stop, would not rest, until the issue was resolved. Although concerned, he simply took her by the shoulders and said these words. "Promising as it sounds, I have to be the one who-" A break scratches about the woodwork. The house was beginning to split in half during their argument. "Go, now!" Screaming back at my caretaker brought tears upon her cheeks. She could not fathom his non-existence against them.

"I'm not gonna let them torture you. I can't-" She persists to tell him her current worries underneath a coverted sob that feared to make an appearance in mist of panic. "I'm not gonna let you do this alone."

His finger lingers near the corner. "This is what we're meant to sacrifice ourselves for. She has known but nothing since birth except to breathe the air we breathe and trust the ones who have received love from us. She cannot exist, she cannot live, without proper care and protection."

"You can't provide protection forever."

"I can try and try, I must."

The ceiling begins to cave in, sprinkling little specks of debris as they covered their heads. Sarah rushes over to me to comfort my cries as the walls started to shrink in size. She shushes me, telling me everything will be fine. "We'll be fine. We'll be safe." Her gaze lifts to him again as another drop of liquid formed across her cheek. I begin to stare opposite of her and directly at the man in the torn, maroon shirt. His blond bangs fluttering over his determined pools of ice. They connect with mine for a brief moment like a St. Elmo's fire, flashing an alternating piece of guided information.

He divides a smile between the two of us. "In time, I promise." Responding to Sarah's whispers of prayer in another language that seemed all too familiar to me. The walls fade to darkness and what became left of a memory deteriorated back amongst the glow of the station lights inside the train.

My Guardian sits, wide-eyed in anticipation at the jolt in the switching of gears. When they finally resume, his face contorts to that of suspicion. Something became of the flickering lights above as they went out. The lone whisper of Sarah's words haunted my fears at that time. I awoke from the slumber fully, reaching out to grab him when the train jolted me to the floor at Benji's feet. Shadows began to encase the natural, lighted atmosphere. I breathed in and then out deeply, urging myself to obey and stay close to the ground. For, the wave of his hand told me to remain still. So, still was how I remained.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Leila begins to comprehend why her Guardian left her in the hands of her first caretaker but, why, and how, he managed to keep the hostile forces at bay still remains a mystery as they travel on the path of least resistance. _


End file.
